Chaos Ensues
by sepulchreangel
Summary: A series of one-shots examining the partnership and later friendship of Daniel and Rorschach. More info inside.
1. Chapter 1

Author's notes: Ok, so this is a series of (hopefully) 100 drabbles examining the relationship between our lovely crime fighting pair, Dan and Rorschach, beginning at… well, the beginning and (hopefully) going in order from there to 1985. Of the 80 chappies I have planned, only 2 are actual slash (and even those are pretty tame), and they will have warnings if that's not your thing. The rest are intended to be just friendship, but if you choose to see them as implied, I have no problem with that 

Warning: mild swearing overall, not just in this chapter.

Oh yeah. Watchmen isn't mine. Obviously. God, could you imagine?

First Meetings

Nite Owl was on patrol. He was young, he was strong, and at that particular moment, he felt invincible. He'd just caught his first criminals of the night. A couple of would-be carjackers that were too surprised at the sight of a grown man in a spandex owlsuit leaping out of the shadows to really put up much of a fight, but as Nite Owl was handcuffing them to a lamppost for the police to find, he couldn't squash the swelling feeling of a job well done.

As he was securing them, he launched into his lecture about the importance of following the law and accepting the consequences for your actions and how they were lucky this was all that was happening to them. This was where one of the carjackers interrupted him, "Shit man, I know how lucky I am you're not that crazy inkblot guy!"

Nite Owl paused, blinking in surprise, "What inkblot guy?" He asked cautiously, not sure if this was some weird thing these kids were pulling to make him look stupid or…what. But the kid seemed more than willing to elaborate with the attitude that he or someone else had been grievously wronged when secretly they knew they probably deserved it.

"He's a mask, like the rest of you freaks," Stupid little punk. "Only this guy's a psycho! The crazy little bastard broke Fred's fingers just for being _around _some guys who were selling--"

"Shut _up_, man," The second kid finally spoke up for the first time. Good. Nite Owl had been concerned he might've given the little idiot a concussion, "Rorschach could be _here_ right now and you'd never know it." And Nite Owl thought _he _was dramatic. But the fear in both their eyes was apparent. And interesting. He'd never heard of this Rorschach and to be quite honest, he wasn't willing to take the word of some stupid kids that he existed at all. But still, if he did, then he'd gained quite a reputation, at least in the eyes of _these _criminals. Which, Nite Owl understood, wasn't saying much, but at least they feared him. The most Nite Owl could manage was sheer bafflement, which worked. Finally, Nite Owl shrugged and left the kids tied to the lamppost.

***

At the end of the week, Nite Owl had completely forgotten about the mysterious Rorschach. In fact, that Saturday night, he was more preoccupied with the rather unlucky predicament he'd found himself in than anything else. As it turned out, because this was the way Nite Owl's life worked, he'd unwittingly stumbled into the middle of some kind of drug deal. And not the kind that happened between two or three people. No, this was some kind of…drug dealer to-do or _something _because there was about 10 of them all touting various weaponry and none of them seemed to appreciate the fact that Nite Owl had interrupted their meeting.

Imagine that.

Unfortunately, they'd recovered from the shock faster than Nite Owl and before he could do anything, they had him surrounded. Figures. Now Nite Owl was at a crossroads. He could try to fight it out, but he _really _wasn't in the mood to get his ass handed to him in a fight, or he could use that auto-retriever he'd installed in Archie even though it had never been tested and it would really rankle his pride knowing he had to run from a fight and --

"Waugh!" The heavily tattooed man directly to his left let out one strangled yelp before suddenly someone (or something) sucked him into the inky shadows at the end of the alley. Everyone froze, including Nite Owl, who knew in the back of his mind he _should _take advantage of the universal bewilderment to get the hell out of there, but he just couldn't force his legs to move. Later he would tell himself that his sudden immobility was because he didn't want to run away from a fight. But if he was really being honest with himself, it was mostly because he was too shocked over everything that was going on to make any sort of definitive movement.

Their confusion slowly turned into panic when another of their group disappeared in a similar manner, snatched up by the dark shadows. Before any of them could react further, a small tan blur exploded from the depths of the alley, landing in front of Nite Owl, in the middle of the throng, taking everyone by surprise.

He was robed in a frayed tan trench coat and violet pinstriped pants. There was a dirty fedora perched atop his head and even though he was standing in with his back to Nite Owl, he had the distinct feeling the look on the shorter man's face must be terrifying, which only partly stemmed from the utterly horrified looks on the other men. There was a moment of shock as the man pursued the scene before him. He let out one dissatisfied "Hurm." before leaping into action. Damn, but he was _good._ He didn't have any sort of weapons or gadgets or even armor that Nite Owl could tell, but he seriously doubted the guy needed any. He was really, really _good. _It was the type of good that made Nite Owl feel rather inadequate. It was like watching a dance, a lethal, deadly dance, yes. But weirdly graceful.

Quickly, and far too easily to be possible (which made Nite Owl more than a little envious), he'd taken care of the problem and without even acknowledging Nite Owl's presence, casually stepped over the groaning bodies and started to walk back down the alley. Nite Owl jerked out of his stupor and lurched forward, picking his way through the sprawled dealers, "Hey! Hey, wait up!" The small figure paused, half turning to face Nite Owl, just enough for Nite Owl to see his mask. Nite Owl couldn't sustain a single shocked gasp. His mask, well god, his mask was _weird_. It was white enough to glow against the backdrop of shadow that pressed against him but was covered with some black viscous material that _changed _every so often. Nite Owl had heard that a while ago, there'd been some fabric that could kind of do that, responded to heat and all that, it was just weird as hell seeing it on a _person_.

"Uhh," Nite Owl had momentarily forgotten what he was going to say, "Hey, you're Rorschach, right?"

The man in the strange mask made no reply, just stared at him suspiciously. Or as suspiciously as a man could when he had no face, "Uhm." Wow, this was awkward, "I've heard of you." he finished lamely.

Rorschach stared flatly back at him and Nite Owl suddenly felt very silly. He was to say something else equally stupid, he was sure, when the pattern shifted and he spoke, "Nite Owl. Have heard of you too. Hrn. I've never really thought I'd ever have to rescue another masked rescuer. Interesting." Dan would just have to take his word for it that he _did_ find it interesting because his gravelly voice showed no interest , just a vague contempt.

"Yeah. Yeah, you really saved my ass out there. Thanks." Finally remembering his manners, Nite Owl extended his hand out to the shorter vigilante, who actually started with surprise. After a moment of awkward staring, a purple gloved hand slowly emerged from a pocket to hesitantly touch Dan's own. Dan grasped it. They shook. Rorschach held on longer than was probably necessary and Dan (pretty good at reading body language) could tell he was taken aback. When he broke the shake, however, the purple hand flashed back into the depths of his trench coat.

"Hurm." He muttered as a sort of goodbye and stalked back down the alley.

"Hey Rorschach!" Dan called to his hunched shoulders, "If you want, you could join up with the other masks. We meet sometimes. If you want, I could give you--"

"No."

The gravelly voice rang out with a tone of finality and Dan was left standing alone in the middle of a dripping alley surrounded by the bodies of ten guys he hadn't touched.

Sometimes being a masked hero was weird as shit.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's notes: Ok, so here's Chapters 2 AND 3 since chapter 2 I find personally to be boring and chapter 3 is so much better. So yeah.

Warning: Umm…general boredom? Oh yeah, and Rorschach talks a little bit more in this one, so watch out for those pre-75 personal pronouns and normal-speak. It might be a little weird

Still don't own Watchmen. Alan Moore scares me.

2. Awkward Conversations

Nite Owl cast yet another furtive glance at the little trench coated vigilante stiffly perched on the edge of the seat next to him. After about three and a half weeks of Rorschach "accidentally" showing up whenever Nite Owl found himself in sticky situations, Nite Owl had finally suggested that they work together.

"Nothing committal," He'd added hastily as the shorter man stiffened uncomfortably, the only outward sign of emotion he'd shown, "Just, just for the big stuff." To tell the truth, Nite Owl was more than a little surprised Rorschach had agreed even to that.

It hadn't been a cakewalk though. For a while, "working together" just meant disappearing for hours then slipping out of the shadows halfway through patrol scaring the shit out of Dan in the process. Working together also meant a lot of miscommunication on where to meet and how long it would take to get there, which usually resulted in Nite Owl getting to their destination half an hour before Rorschach (thanks to Archie) and then having Rorschach get annoyed with him for waiting instead of going on by himself. Then, Dan brought up the idea of riding with him in Archie after one particularly irritable night when he'd waited for Rorschach and the man they were chasing got away. He got the feeling Rorschach wanted to snap his neck.

Two weeks later, Rorschach was _finally_ sitting in Archie, looking as uncomfortable as hell and as uncommunicative as ever. Dan suspected he didn't really interact with people very much and probably wasn't too keen on starting now, but if he was going to keep working with him, Dan wanted to be able to _see _him as much as possible. He was really getting sick of the man jumping out of the shadows when he least expected it. It was tiring.

Dan had a sneaking suspicion that working with Rorschach for a long period of time would be a little tiring; the man was more than a little judgmental and Dan sometimes got the feeling that Rorschach was patronizing him. Just a little bit. It was either that or he'd never developed good social skills; sometimes people were just like that. Dan didn't really care, it just made him curious. He'd told Rorschach a bit about himself over the past month or so. Not a lot, Dan wasn't stupid, but little things like how he studied birds as a hobby (he figured that one was safe as it seemed like a given) or how old he was. That one had kind of just slipped out once as a bit of a non sequitur, but the look Rorschach gave him was pretty funny.

But Rorschach had never told him anything about himself. In fact, Rorschach never really said much at all. The most Dan had ever heard him talk was when they were planning something (Rorschach was a brilliant tactician). Most nights, Dan didn't mind it, he was a quiet guy himself so it was fine, there wasn't much to talk about anyways. But this night was different. This night, he and Rorschach were actually sitting still, not planning anything and without much to distract them except for the quiet humming and beeping of Archie. Dan, being who he was, figured that this would be a good time to get to know a little more about the quiet man sitting beside him.

He really should have known better.

"So." Dan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, glancing over at Rorschach, who gave no sign that he'd even hear Dan speak, "Uhm…looks like another busy night tonight, do you think?"

Rorschach turned his head to look at him slightly, "Hrn."

_Hrn. _Ok. Dan tried again, feeling particularily masochistic tonight, "Do you…wanna listen to the radio? I have pretty good receptions in--"

"No. Don't really like music."

Well, at least it was a response. Grasping at the multiple worded answer, he pressed, "Really? That's…unusual. Why not?" Rorschach shrugged.

And that was that. _Apparently_, Rorschach didn't like music because Rorschach didn't like music and that was all there is to it.

Frustrated, Dan huffed into silence while Rorschach sat, completely unperturbed. Dan continued, really too bored to do anything else, "I like music, actually. It's nice to listen to while I'm working on Archie." Rorschach nodded slowly and carefully, probably trying to be polite. Or not.

Dan was silent for a while, figuring that maybe if he kept quiet long enough Rorschach would feel obligated to reply in kind.

Hah.

Dan fidgeted a little more, "Hey, did I tell you that I named Archie after--"

"Archimedes. Merlin's pet owl. You did."

"Oh."

Well, this _sucked._ And it was awkward. He sighed again and began tapping his fingers in time with the beeping of Archie's console. _Beep. Beep. Tap. Tap. Beep. Tap. Tap. Beep. _He was becoming a bit entertained by this whole thing when he felt Rorschach's eyes on him. He turned to see the shorter man turned completely toward him and Dan had the sneaking suspicion Rorschach was glaring at him a little.

Dan smiled awkwardly, "Hey."

Rorschach stared at him for a little while longer, scrutinizing him. Dan felt a blush creep up his face. Now he felt like an idiot for behaving like a little boy on a long car ride. He opened his mouth to apologize when Rorschach finally spoke, "So is there a reason the Owlship has a unique shape? Usually airships aren't shaped like this."

Dan stared at him, momentarily taken aback by the sudden question. Then, a slow smile spread across his face, "Oh yeah, the shape of the ship makes it radar invisible, which could come in handy someday, right?"

Rorschach straightened up, "Radar invisible? Very useful." He sounded impressed. And that was really all the encouragement Dan needed. Before he could really stop himself, he was off talking about the schematics of making Archie and how fast he could go and the fuel efficiency and the weapons Archie had. Eventually, Dan was startled out of his lectures by a blip appearing on Archie's screen.

Rorschach stood, "We're here."

Dan stood up as well, "Yeah." And the last thing he thought before Nite Owl jumped out of Archie's open hatch was that he still didn't know anything about Rorschach, except that he was an exceptionally good listener. And really, that was enough.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Notes: Yay! Chapter 3 is here. Enjoy!

Warning: The F-bomb. Twice, I think. I'm not sure if that matters, but it may. Other assorted swear words as well, but that's going to happen rather often.

Typical disclaimer here.

3. Partners.

It was a mess. Just one big fucking mess. A grubby, heavyset man with small, shifting eyes licked his lips nervously as he crouched in the stinking tunnels, squinting into the darkness. His men were getting nervous. They shifted and grumbled among themselves, fearing even though they knew that _they_ could get down here. For the moment, the Underboss and his men were in very little danger. As much as it galled him to be squatting here next to a river of shit, it would be even more aggravating to be caught and turned over to the police by a freak in a spandex owl suit. Not exactly dignified.

His thoughts, which were getting more and more unpleasant by the second, were interrupted by a nervous elbow to the ribs, "Hey boss, are sure they can't get down here?" A nervous, gaunt man trembled at his elbow.

The Underboss glared. "No Benny, I already told you, they can get down here their ship's too goddamn big."

Almost as if his words were an incantation, a group of rats scrabbled from the dark tunnels at their feet. The Underboss frowned, _huh. Didn't think rats acted like that. _More and more rats were dashing down the dripping tunnels, their startled squeaking sounding eerily like frightened screams as they echoed off the dank concrete walls. Suddenly, the thin man standing beside him, Benny, grabbled his arm, "Oh _damn. _God dammit, _look!_" The Underboss was looking

A whole sea of filthy rodent bodies swarmed the tunnels, scrambling towards the cluster of men; some were even jumping into the filthy water in their terror. "What the hell?" Underboss gasped, kicking out violently as rats ran over his feet. Panic building, his mind just barely registered the smell of some kind of smoke, at odds with the filthy stench inherent in sewers, when he found himself looking into the depths of hell.

Plumes of sickly green smoke billowed down the shadowy tunnels, illuminated only by his flashlight, and there, just barely beating the hell-fire, was the demon himself. Underboss wasn't sure what it was that he was riding on, but when he saw the trench coated, blank faced devil, it turned his insides to ice. "Oh _shit!_" Benny screamed, falling back onto damp concrete. Underboss found he couldn't say anything as it seemed that his tongue had turned to cardboard. He just stared at the swift arrival of his own speeding ruin.

He closed his eyes.

***

Nite Owl was able to hold in his laughter all through the apprehension and restraining of the Underboss and his team. All through his interaction with the police. And all through his brief liaison with the press. After that, he fairly dashed to Archie, took one look at Rorschach, comfortably ensconced in the passenger's seat, munching on the sugar cubes he'd pulled from the cupboard above the coffeepot, and burst out laughing. He collapsed on the floor in hysterics. Rorschach looked at him in what seemed like distant surprise.

"You-they…ga-" Dan gasped incoherently, unable to be articulate in the face of hilarity. Rorschach flicked an imaginary piece of dirt from his sleeve, "Yes, Nite Owl?"

Dan finally regained his composure, "Oh my god, man. Their _faces! _You- and the hoverbike…oh jeez…" he slumped against the inner wall of Archie, "Good job tonight, man. Good work." He grinned, his good mood loosening his usually prudent grip on his mouth, "We make great partners."

It wasn't until Rorschach jerked his head around to look at him did he realize what exactly he said. Ice slid down his stomach. "Uhh…" Oh crap, now he'd done it. He cast about for something, anything to change the subject.

Rorschach slowly popped another sugar cube in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "Yes," Dan looked at him nervously, "Suppose we make good partners. All things considered." Dan couldn't stop the relieved grin that split his face, "Yeah," he laughed,

"All things considered."

A/N: Well, that was actually shorted than I thought it would be… Hmm. I hope you enjoyed it anyways. So at this point, I have chapter 5 only partially written and then after that, the next chapter I have fully written is ch. 35. So updates may come later than what they are right now. But maybe not, as it is summer break for me now.

So what do you think? Should I continue? Has reading this made you want to stab out your eyes? Reviews would be appreciated. Thank you!


	4. Chapter 4

Author's notes: Wow, it feels like it's been forever. Maybe it has…Ok, so this chapter kicked my butt, so I apologize if it's a smidge shorter than the others, which sucks because Chapter 5's supposed to be the short fluff chapter…But I might do some switching.

Warnings: Umm…I don't think there is any really…Enjoy?

I still don't own the Watchmens…

4. Touch

When you were a costumed hero, you got yourself into weird situations; some infinitely cooler than others.

Before becoming a mask, Dan would've thought that stealthily infiltrating a building full of criminals via the air ducts would be amazingly cool; James Bond-worthy, in fact. However, he forgot to factor in the fact that he was only just a little smaller than the air vent itself and his cape only added to his bulk. That, and commando crawling through a dusty tube directly behind the feet of a man who smelled like rotting garbage was certainly a dampener on his spirits.

The only good thing about this whole affair was that it was an old building and the vents widened at some points, allowing himself to poke his head up to breathe or stretch his back. His partner didn't seem to mind, however. Granted, Rorschach was quite a bit smaller than Dan and he wasn't hindered by a cowl or anything like that. Initially, Dan had thought Rorschach's costume to be a little lackluster, but now it looked pretty damn intelligent from where Dan was standing. Or crawling, as it were.

Just as Dan opened his mouth to ask how much further they would have to go, Rorschach raised a purple-gloved fist. An eager smile cracked Dan's pace as his pulse quickened, spurred on by the sudden rush of adrenaline that made the blood pound in his ears. He knew the plan, Rorschach's plan really (the man was a tactical genius), and Dan was quite literally itching with anticipation. Rorschach looked over his shoulder and Dan imagined that the curving inkblots mirrored a smile underneath the latex. Probably not.

Rorschach nodded, once, and Dan pressed a button on his belt, grinning widely. They watched through the grating as Archie's blinding headlights just outside their window illuminated the darkened room below them. Its occupants, a little man named the Big Figure and his henchmen, looked up from their dealings, startled. At the sight of Archie, the room was suddenly bustling with frenzied commotion of many men reaching for their guns. As they opened fire on an (empty) Archie, Dan's smile grew wider. Archie's hull was fortified and it would take a lot more that mere bullets to dent him up. On Rorschach's signal, Dan pressed another button on his console and turned on the screechers, Archie's newest addition to his arsenal. The sound wave shattered the windows with a note of finality and Dan felt a brief sense of satisfaction watching the criminals fall to the floor, writhing and clutching their ears in sheer surprise.

To his side, Rorschach lifted the grating and descended down upon the nearly incapacitated men like a judging angel. Dan took one last deep breath before Nite Owl swept down to join his partner.

Sometimes, being a costumed hero was just as cool as it sounded.

***

Nite Owl couldn't wipe the smug grin off his face if he even tried. They had been tracking god damned Big Figure for months, nearly catching him at times and _every single time_ they got close, the slippery bastard managed to get away. Not only was it absolutely galling, but it also meant that Dan had to put up with an angry Rorschach. Which was never fun. Now, however, both Rorschach and Nite Owl could celebrate the fact that finally, _finally_ there was one less major crime boss out on the street. Nite Owl didn't think Rorschach was the celebrating type. But Dan didn't really think at all.

He never really did.

Rorschach had his back to Dan when he straightened up, having restrained the last of the unconscious gang. Rorschach was probably a little annoyed with Dan as he wanted to keep Big Figure awake, but Dan had gotten a little too carried away. Now Big Figure probably had a mild to severe concussion and wouldn't regain consciousness for quite some time.

Oh well.

However, Dan, trying to make amends, smiled, allowing his excitement to override his professionalism. "Hey, Rorschach!" He called out, jumping forward, his hand raised to a high five, "Can you beli-Waugh!"

Upon reflection, Dan figured it was probably his own fault.

What Dan had meant to be a friendly gesture of comraderie after a successful venture, Rorschach perceived as an unexpected attack from an unknown assailant. Therefore, Dan was swiftly punched in the solar plexus and his feet swept out from under him with a clear kick, knocking the wind out of him. Dan blinked at the ceiling, waiting for the little cartoon stars to clear from his eyes, when a fedora-clad head swam into his vision. Dan grinned sheepishly. And a little dazedly--Rorschach hadn't been pulling his punches. They stared at each other for a minute before a snigger to their right jolted them out of their confusion. Dan felt his face heat up. Oh great, some criminal idiot just saw the Nite Owl get his ass handed to him by his own partner. That will do wonders for his reputation.

Rorschach jerked up towards the sound, growled, and strode across the room in big, angry steps and punched the guy in the face. Hard. Well, _now_ he was unconscious, Dan mused absentmindedly, pushing himself off the floor. Rorschach turned to look at him, fists clenched and Dan could not shake the feeling that he had offended his temperamental partner _again_. Trying once again to make up for being _such_ an idiot, Dan forced a sheepish grin, "Sorry about that." Rorschach froze. Dan wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, so he continued, "Don't know what I was thinking, jumping out from behind you like that. And after a fight at that. It was pretty stupid of me."

Dan had one of those feelings again, looking at Rorschach after he had spoken. One of those feelings that he knew exactly what was on the other side of that mask, on the human side of Rorschach. At that moment, he knew Rorschach was looking at him like he'd never seen anyone quite like Dan in his life. After a while, Rorschach finally spoke, "Shouldn't have knocked you down. Embarrassed you in front of criminals. Endangered your reputation." This was the best apology Dan would ever receive until 1985, ten hundred years away from where they were now and Dan didn't even know it.

He laughed, "Reputation? Rorschach, I dress up like a _giant owl_ and fight crime. I don't have the greatest reputation as is. Really, it's no one's fault. Look, I've already contacted the police; let's wait for them up in Archie. I know how much you don't like talking to them."

Rorschach nodded, the inkblots on his face curving up again in the same way they had in the air vent, "Should probably learn how to defend yourself better, Nite Owl. Have horrible reflexes."

Dan laughed, surprised and pleased, "I'm so sorry. We can't all be as bad-assed as you."

"Hurm."

Other times, being a costumed hero had everything to do with the people who fought by your side and made you feel invincible.

A/N: Yay! I liked this chapter a lot, actually. And it didn't turn out to be short like I was afraid it would! Anyways, I apologize for the delay, I actually just came back from my friend's graduation. So cool. Anyways, yeah, reviews are good and thank you for all the great postive feedback I'm getting from you guys. Except for Absolute Authority on Everything Fict. –I know who you are, and so help me god, I'm gonna get you. :)


	5. Chapter 5

Author's notes: God, this chapter kicked me in the face!!! I went to New Mexico on a weeklong trip and HALF THE TRIP was spent working on this chapter, which got stupider and stupider with every passing rewrite!!!! GOD! So here it is. Whoo.

Warnings: sheer suckery.

5. Archie

It was about 6:15, dusk was finally settling on the Manhattan skyline and there was a man sitting in his basement, dressed up like an owl, feeling a little silly.

Dan had jumped the gun, getting all suited up far too early and now he had nothing to do but sit in his basement, twiddle his thumbs and wait for his partner. Dan whistled tunelessly and beat his open palms against his thighs. Well, this was stupid. While he was a patient man, he preferred to have something to keep his hand occupied. It had been that way ever since he was a kid. He could sit quietly for hours in the doctor's office, at important dinners his parents occasionally attended, at any sort of thing, as long as he had something to occupy his hands. If he didn't then he would look for things to play with. Which usually resulted in something getting broken or spilled and little Daniel getting in trouble. Dan sighed heavily and pushed back his cowl; if he was going to be waiting, he might as well be productive about it.

He took off his gloves and clambered under Archie's hull. There had been a few things he had wanted to work on with his Owlship, but had always been too tired or busy to do so. Now it seemed he would have plenty of time. He contemplated changing out of his suit, but it took forever to put on, and he'd just have to get dressed again when Rorschach came. Dan didn't figure Rorschach would appreciate the wait. So, in costume he would stay.

He wasn't sure how long he was under, happily tinkering with Archie's engines, but he was so oblivious to the world that he didn't register the creak of the gate on the far end of the tunnel. Nor did he hear the soft padding of quiet footsteps. Therefore, when a hand hesitantly reached out and shook his outstretched foot, he let out a startled yell, smashed his head on the underside of Archie and jerked the cowl over his face reflexively. Winching, he scooted out from under the Owlship and blinked, wide eyed, up at the lights.

Rorschach stood before him, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other, "Hello Nite Owl. Something wrong with your ship?"

Dan rubbed the knot on his head and smiled ruefully, "No, I just needed something to do, I suited up too early and Archie could always use some improvement. Uhh…" Dan's eyes fell on the clock on the wall. It wasn't even seven. Surprised, Dan blinked up at Rorschach, "What're you doing here so early?"

The question had been innocent, but Rorschach had a way of taking things the wrong way. He tensed a little, black wings swooping about his face, "Can return later." He mumbled.

Dan stood up hastily, "No, no! I'm sorry, I was just surprised. Actually, I-I could use some help. If you want, it's still pretty early." Rorschach made a thoughtful noise at the back at his throat, "I don't really know much about Owlships, Nite Owl. Don't know how much help I'd be."

Dan laughed a little, "That's ok, I could show you some stuff. And…I could use the company." Dan shrugged, awkward smile still in place. Rorschach considered him for a moment before slowly lowering himself to sit the concrete floor beside Dan, who was smiling happily. Absolutely relishing the opportunity to share one of his passions with an actual _person_, Dan threw prudence to the wind and tugged on Rorschach's sleeve, pulling him under Archie's hull.

Rorschach grunted in surprise, which should've reminded his partner that he was getting closer and closer to a punch in the face. But the taller man was already animatedly explaining the tangle of wires and circuits and buttons (that all looked about the same to Rorschach) with such boyish enthusiasm that Rorschach decided, despite the initial discomfort at his partner's proximity, that he wouldn't mind listening for a while.

A/N. Yeah. Sorry. That's all I got. Next chapter at the usual weekly time I think. My sister's holding me at gunpoint to hurry up and get to chapter 7 'cause that's her favorite topic.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's notes: OMIGOD! TWO CHAPTERS!!! I know, I'm excited too. It's mostly because I had such fun writing these two chapters; I just couldn't wait a whole week to post seven. Anyways, these were fun to write, I hope it shows!!

Warnings: uhh…swearing, Dan torture, and grumpy!Dan. Hooray!

6. Bad Day

When Dan was jolted from sleep at 9:30 (ridiculously early for a costumed hero in Dan's book) and couldn't get back to sleep, he should've been suspicious. When he finally shuffled to the kitchen and discovered that he was absolutely out of coffee, he should've just gone back to bed. Groaning quietly, he slumped back to his room and fumbled into some blue jeans and a sweater. Still groggy, he toed on some shoes and stepped out into the mid morning sun. Trudging down the street, he was in the middle of an invigorating internal rant about how early it was and how sore he was from patrol last night and how the _hell_ had he run out of coffee when a scuffling across the street caught his attention.

A woman and a man were grappling over a purse; the woman was screaming. Dan felt a little like screaming himself. He was sore, dammit! He was sore, in a noncombatative mood, and all he wanted was some coffee. Instead, he just _happened_ across the one broad daylight mugging in the whole of New York City and _of course _no one else was even batting an eyelash. Except for Dan, of course. Figures. Feeling intense frustration burst from his stomach, he clenched his fists, marched across the street and decked the guy cleanly in the face. Surprised, the guy lost his grip on the purse and toppled to the pavement. Feeling slightly mollified (no wonder Rorschach liked punching so much, it was kind of cathartic), he turned to the woman with a reassuring smile on his face, "Are you all right, ma'am?"

The woman was young and pretty, blonde hair cropped to just above her shoulders and wide brown eyes, "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine… I just—thank you _so _much, I don't know—AAH!" The woman screamed as a foot collided with the back of Daniel's knee, causing him to buckle and fall. Now beyond infuriated, Dan leapt to his feet and punched the guy in the face and twice in the gut. The blows smacked satisfyingly against exposed skin and an unprotected body. Unfortunately, the stubborn little bastard wasn't going down without a fight. He got in two stinging punches to the nose and right cheek before Daniel swung up and kicked him in the neck. The man let out a gasping cough as he flew into the brick wall of a nearby building, finally unconscious.

Now sporting a lovely bloody nose, Dan turned again to see that the woman was gone. She'd clearly run when the fight had started up again. Dan shook his head, "Some people…" he muttered as he left the thief for someone else to deal with and continued on his quest for coffee.

A half a block and a ten-minute line later, Daniel emerged out of the coffeehouse, toting a steaming cup in his hand. Feeling much better, Dan bought a little bag of bread and went to the park to partake in one of his favorite activities: feeding the ducks. While there, enjoying a cool breeze and cheery sunshine, Daniel chided himself for being so grumpy. So the morning was a little rocky, he thought, watching the ducks swarm happily at his feet, but that was no call for being so negative. Somewhere behind him, he heard a man playing with his dog. Dan smiled, if he kept up such pessimism, he may very well end up like Rorschach. He bit back a chuckle, knowing he shouldn't be so amused at the thought of _two_ Rorschachs wreaking havoc on New York. Really, one was quite enough.

Caught up in his musings and the happy quacking of ducks, Dan didn't notice the barking of a nearby dog growing louder. Or the frantic shouting of its owner. Daniel didn't really notice anything 'til a hefty, overweight Dalmatian bowled into Dan, knocking him into the murky green duck-water. Spluttering and blinking, Daniel stumbled out of the pond to see the Dalmatian heartily devouring his bread like he had a right to it.

The dog's owner, a tall, wiry, red haired man, was apologizing before he even reached him. "Oh god, I am so sorry! Joe, you brute, why'd you do that for, you great lug? Listen man, I am really sorry. My dog, he…gets that way around food."

Dan forced a smile, at least the guy was apologetic, "It's all right. No harm done." The man apologized once again for Dan's trouble, and Dan again assured him that he was fine and no, there wasn't anything he could do, Dan was on his way home anyways. Leaving the man to scold his dog who kept indifferently munching on Daniel's bread, Dan went home with the intent of sleeping 'till 7:30.

It was now 8:45 p.m. and Dan was late, late, _late._ Throwing on his Owlsuit haphazardly, he decided right then and there that he'd never had a crappier day in his life. He was supposed to meet Rorschach by the wharf across town at 8:15. Oh man, Rorschach was going to be _pissed_. Dan threw on his gloves and his goggles before glancing down at his feel. Christ almighty, where the hell were his _boots? _He slammed the basement door as loud as he could behind him and dashed up to his bedroom. Grabbing the pair of brown boots from under his bed and wondering how in god's name the got there, he skidded back to the basement door, smashing his feet into the boots. Finally feeling like he could be underway, he pushed hard on the basement door, only to have it creak irritably and stay shut. Dan frowned, twiddling the unmoving handle. Suddenly, realization hit him. The door was locked. The keys were in his jeans. His jeans were in the basement. And Daniel was very much _not _in the basement. Where his keys were. Cursing violently, Daniel closed his eyes and braced himself. He'd seen Rorschach do this before, when time demanded more than stealthy lock picking. Letting out an enraged yell, he swiveled to the side and swiftly kicked the door between the knob and the doorjamb.

To his intense surprise, the door splintered and he was caught both off guard and off balance (_too close to the door, you asshole) _and tumbled down the short flight of stairs. Dazed and sore, he lay there staring at the ceiling until he heard a shuffling of feet and a figure that smelled a little like sour milk leaning over him, shaking his shoulder almost nervously, "…Nite Owl?"

Rubbing the back of his head, Daniel sat up and groaned, "M'all right. Sorry Rorschach." He groaned sheepishly at his partner, "I think I just had a ridiculously bad day."

Rorschach considered him for a moment, "You're late." Dan sighed, "I know, I know. Did the guys we were tracking get away?"

"No," Rorschach sounded vaguely smug, "Took care of that before coming here." He straightened up and extended a hand to help Daniel up. Surprised, he seized the hand and hauled himself off the ground, "Well, hell man. What do you need me for?"

Rorschach paused, apparently considering the rhetorical question, "Would've appreciated the Owlship."

Dan laughed, "Thanks Rorschach."

A/n: Aww, Dan gets some love at the end. I guess that makes it ok. Onto the chapter you've all been waiting for!! (and by all I mean me.)


	7. Chapter 7

Author's notes: Hee hee. This chapter was by far the most fun to write. It made me giggle, and I hope it at least elicits a smile from all of you!!

Warnings: it's Captain Carnage, guys…weird shit.

7. Captain Carnage

Rorschach leaned over Archie's console, staring intently as Nite Owl punched in the coordinates. "What's the call?" His voice was gravel-rough and tense. Nite Owl barely looked up from the console,

"Bank robbery, looks like. Possible bomb threat, seventeen hostages." Rorschach nodded tersely and sat in his seat. Nite Owl powered up his Owlship and shot into the late afternoon sky. Usually, they didn't really work days, it made Rorschach uncomfortable and Daniel needed sleep. But when Ozymandias contacted Nite Owl about a bank robbing that he "simply couldn't be there for" (like it was on appointment basis with the guy or something), Nite Owl simply couldn't pass it up. He glanced over at his silent partner, grinning, "And you didn't want to take the communicator. Imagine how irritated you'd be if you missed this."

Rorschach grunted, "Still think it's a bad idea. It's too loud, ostentatious. It's risky carrying it around, Nite Owl."

It was Daniel who turned around to fully face him, exasperation and disbelief overcoming the waves of excitement he'd been riding on moments before. "It-it's a watch, Rorschach. That beeps if I need you. Twice. It even tells time like a real watch. It _is_ a real watch. Only it beeps. Sometimes. How is that _at all_ ostentatious?"

Rorschach was silent. Letting it slide, Nite Owl turned back to the console, intent on the job of flying Archie. "Okay, so there's cops at the scene already. They filled me in before I called you. It's a hostage situation and the guy only wants to deal with masks. No normal police. It's weird, but I don't really care at the moment. Anyways, from what they told me, he's got a bomb and weird, new weapons that nobody can identify. Apparently, the shit _glows_." He shook his head, "It's like they're all trying to be like Moloch or something. Anyways, I think I should go in first." Rorschach jerked his head to glare at Nite Owl, who sighed, "Let's face it Rorschach. You're not very good at negotiations. And the guy has _hostages_. And _big, glowing guns_."

"Exactly," Rorschach growled, "He has advanced weaponry, therefore a more serious threat. _Therefore,_ going by yourself is an extremely stupid idea."

Nite Owl grinned, "Your concern is flattering, but there are hostages to think about. And really, you're more likely to piss this guy off than I am; you're not very good with people. Don't worry, if I need you, I'll page you on your ultra loud, super obvious communicator." Rorschach growled again, sounding dangerous, but Nite Owl had already put the ship on hover and threw open the hatch. With a jaunty wink, Nite Owl jumped down the hatch into the open air, leaving Rorschach to deal with the beginnings of a headache that was _not_ from worry.

Nite Owl had landed behind the group of police and greeted them politely, "Good afternoon, officers."

They turned, glanced him over, then the captain grudgingly stepped forward, "Uh..Nite Owl. Its…good to have you here." Nite Owl got the impression they were vaguely embarrassed that they had to ask the help of a twenty-something year old man dressed up like a big owl. Dan understood; he'd be embarrassed too. "This is Johnston. He's a trained negotiator, specializes in hostage situations. He'll be assisting you."

Nite Owl was glad the goggles were dark, so they couldn't see him roll his eyes. Oh, that'll go down real great with Rorschach, who was weirdly touchy about that kind of stuff. Like he half-expected Nite Owl to tell him to find another partner. But there wasn't really anything he could do about it, so he nodded stiffly and stretched out his hand, "Officer Johnston." The man was young, about his age, and he looked like he was trying to smother great fascination. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. The guy was more cheerful than Rorschach, anyways. Which was in no way fair.

Nite Owl cautiously opened the door to the bank and peered around the corner. His eyes closed and he sighed, dropping his fists in disappointment, "Oh, you've _got_ to be kidding me. You again?" No longer bothering to be cautious, he straightened and walked over to the lobby.

The bomber with the terrible, glowy weapons was the one and only Captain Carnage, dressed in a grating lime green jumpsuit with an orange "C" stamped to his chest. Behind his bright yellow domino mask, his eyes widened in delight, "Ah! The feathered dispenser of justice! We meet again! But where is your monochromed man of violence?" He pouted a little, "I did _so_ wish to encounter him." Dan resisted the urge to slap his palm to his forehead. Barely. Because really, could this get any stupider? "What do you want, Carnage? You _know_ I'm just gonna leave you with the police like last time." Daniel gestured to Johnston, who looked beyond confused.

Unfortunately, he was unfazed, "Ah, but _this_ time I have obtained new technology the likes of which have never been beheld by mortal eyes! _Behold!_" With a flourish, Captain Carnage pulled out his aforementioned weapon. Dan's eyes widened in disbelief.

"It's a…really big water gun, Carnage. Painted purple and black. With a _pocket flashlight_ taped to the inside. Look, you can kind of see the outline on the ins—_what the hell?"_ He glared irritably at Johnston, "You called us out here to parley with an irritating masochist with a _glowing water gun?_"

Johnston immediately took the defensive, "Hey, man, from the security cameras all we could see was a big glowing gun. Don't blame us." Daniel turned his glare to the civilians, who all looked fairly sheepish.

Before Dan could say something along the lines of _wow you guys are stupid_, one of the upper windows exploded. Everyone jumped and a few people screamed as a tan and purple nutcase burst through the window. And not just any nutcase, Dan's nutcase. Daniel glared, "Nice, Rorschach. Nice." He was sure Rorschach was glaring daggers at him, "I got sick of waiting." He turned and considered Carnage. Dan could swear he could see the raised eyebrows, "This is it?"

The good Captain looked ridiculously offended and Dan distantly wondered how far his inclination for drama and hyperbole actually went. Carnage recovered quickly, "But you clearly do not know me, for I am the great and feared Captain Carnage!" He waved his hands with such flourish it made Dan embarrassed for him, "And the false weaponry was but a ruse to distract your ornithological comrade here from the true danger! Beware, for I hold in my hand a remote that could trigger a bomb explosion that would cleave the city in twain!" Rorschach stiffened, legs coiled to spring, fists clenched. Dan sighed heavily, rolling his eyes, "So go ahead."

Everyone was looking at him. Rorschach growled. Carnage blinked, "Wuh—what?"

Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose through his headpiece, "I said go ahead. Blow up half of New York. I want to see it." Carnage looked gobsmacked, "well-well…the—you…you _cannot_…I-uh. Very clever, winged justice!" Damn, he's still talking, "You discovered my plot. But I have soiled the tranquil peace of these civilians! Brought them, through my own dastardly falsities, eye to eye with their own mortality, scarring some, perhaps forever. I should be punished for these transgressions!"

"No," Dan felt like he was talking to a psych ward patient…or…no, he definitely was, "The only thing you brought these people face to face with is their own stupidity and trust me, they'll live." He glanced around at the "hostages" at large, "Anyone feel scarred for life? No? Well then. C'mon Rorschach. This was a massive waste of time." Rorschach grumbled, no doubt a little confused and maybe as disappointed as Dan, but he followed without comment.

At the Owlship, Rorschach turned on Dan, "Take it you've met Carnage before?" His voice was tight, irritated. Dan was confused, "Uh. Yes?"

Rorschach growled, "Would've been nice if you would have informed me. Once the identity of the threat had been made known."

Dan's eyes widened. He hadn't really thought of that. He'd been so annoyed with the whole situation that he'd completely forgotten about his overly paranoid partner who, from the sound of it, had been sitting in the Owlship going crazy. Shit, and Rorschach was worried about _Dan _finding another partner? "Ah. Hell, man. I didn't—I mean…I forgot." Shame colored his face, "I'm sorry."

"Hrn." Rorschach supplied, the verbal equivalent of a shrug, and leaned back in his seat. The rest of the ride they sat in comfortable silence. When they got to the basement, Daniel invited Rorschach up to his house. They only had a few hours left 'til patrol after all and wouldn't he like something to eat? Rorschach declined, "I have…some things to take care of." And trudged down the tunnel. He didn't really have anything to take care of, he just didn't relish the thought of sitting in Nite Owl's kitchen as the man stumbled through small talk to which Rorschach never knew how to respond.

Dusk was nearing and dusty purple shadows bathed the streets below. Rorschach crept through the halls of a half ruined, abandoned hotel, using the growing shadow to mask his stalking movements. He'd received a tip that some illicit dealings occurred here in the shadows and dust of the old corpse building. Suddenly, a burst of color shot out of one to the doors, startling Rorschach. Instinctively, he lashed out at the figure, catching two punches to the face and a vicious kick to the side. The large "C" of the man's chest gave him pause. The look of arousal and loud ragged breathing stopped him from beating him up again, just because Rorschach didn't really appreciate being startled.

Captain Carnage's eyes flew open angrily, "Why have you ceased your punitive beating? It was I who led you astray, who threatened civilians _and_ your partner! Do I not deserve to be punished? _Punish me!_"

Rorschach looked at him, disgusted, "No. Pervert." He turned and walked back down the hallway. Carnage followed, shouting, "Oh, I see! Just because you feel I have a problem, a _disability_, you think I don't deserve punishment?! Come back here, you coward! You-you communist!"

Rorschach had had more than enough of this man. He seized him by the throat and pulled him close, "_Shut. Up."_ He growled in his most intimidating voice.

Carnage leered and leaned into his hand, pulling himself forward so that their noses were brushing against each other, mouth nearing mouth, "Commie."

That was _it_. Rorschach jerked back, repulsed (and a little creeped out) and dragged Carnage down the hall by the neck. Swiftly, he swung open the door to the old service elevator and flung the deviant down the gaping hole. Carnage had been too surprised even to yell.

Rorschach growled and headed for Nite Owl's basement. The was his head was feeling, he was in serious need of some coffee.

A/N: YAY! Ok, so that was fun. Hope you guys enjoyed that! Oh, and question. I know it seems super premature to ask, but the issue _may_ come up in one of my next drabbles. Walter's eyes, blue or brown? I know I'm trying to go really canon here, but I _love _the blue eyes. So I dunno. Thank you!


	8. Chapter 8

Author's notes: Ok, guys, this is the first drabble written without writing a longhand draft first. Let's see if it makes a difference…

Warnings: A _lot_ of ridiculous conspiracy theories by our favorite masked paranoid. So yeah. I think you guys know what to expect. Oh yeah…and suspenders *blushes

I still don't own Watchmen, and I'm wondering if I still need to keep saying it. I think it's pretty obvious by now…

8. Conspiracy theories

"Ok, Rorschach, you really need to hold still! The more you squirm around, the longer this is going to take!"

"Can do this myself. I don't need your help."

"Oh really? You're right. Silly me. _Of course_ you would have a better view of your left shoulder blade than I would! Because that makes sense."

"Ennk."

Dan took a deep breath, willing his patience to hold as he regarded his injured, stubborn and crabby partner. He'd fallen out of a second story window and now Dan was carefully picking shards of said window out of Rorschach's shoulder. The only reason Rorschach hadn't run away by now was because he'd twisted his ankle and it was now securely tied to an ice pack (at Daniel's insistence, of course. If it were up to Rorschach, he'd probably just try to…walk it off or something).

To say Rorschach was unhappy about the arrangement would be an understatement. It had been a battle just to get the man to loose enough layers for Daniel to look at it. The coat was the easy part; it came off with just some glaring and mumbled protests. But when Dan had asked for the pinstriped jacket to come off too, Rorschach had refused. Vehemently. It had taken Dan holding him by the shoulders and describing to him in minute (and maybe a little hyperbolic) detail of what _exactly _would happen to him if he got an infection. After a brief, stunned silence, Rorschach took off the jacket as well, revealing a bloodstained dress shirt and suspenders. Dan was…more than a little amused at the sight, but he figured laughing would be rude and hazardous to his health. So he kept his amusement of the suspenders to himself and helped Rorschach out of the left sleeve of his shirt; he had made it clear that he intended to be as clothed as possible through all this and Daniel didn't see anything unusually weird about that.

However, one thing was made abundantly clear by Daniel's proximity to his partner: Rorschach apparently did not believe in bathing. To be fair, it was almost into the summer months, the weather was warming up and that suit didn't look like it breathed very well, but _god._ He always smelled bad, but the closeness and lack of layers really just made it worse. Dan crinkled his nose against the odor and finished as quickly (and thoroughly) as possible before helping him back into his shirt.

"Well, that's that," Dan straightened up, working out an ache in his back, "Why don't you stay here for a while? There's coffee in Archie and I'm far too keyed up to go to sleep yet. Besides," he added when he sensed Rorschach's impending protest, "you and I both know that you won't be taking this ice pack with you when you leave. At least give your ankle a break for a while. Ok?"

Rorschach muttered and huffed and sulked like a little kid, but he stayed sitting on the wooden bench, glaring balefully at his iced ankle. Dan smothered a triumphant smile before stepping into Archie to retrieve the promised coffee. He handed one steaming cup to Rorschach and put his own on the bench next to him. Dan stooped and picked up Rorschach's jacket and coat. He wrinkled his nose at the pungent smell, then looked up at his taciturn partner nervously. Daniel and Rorschach had been partners for a while, and they had always been pretty honest with each other. Especially Rorschach, who basically redefined the term "brutally honest". But Rorschach was also highly unpredictable and could actually be a little sensitive. Rorschach seemed to notice Dan staring at him; he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Something bothering you, Nite Owl?" Rorschach didn't look up from his coffee. Dan swallowed nervously.

"Uhh… if I tell you something honestly, do you promise not to get mad?" He asked, flushing at how childish he sounded. Rorschach looked at him suspiciously before nodding slowly.

"Ah. Okay…well, you…you stink." Dan informed him, not really knowing the tactful way to put it. He hoped Rorschach, who never employed tact himself, wouldn't miss it on him.

Fortunately, Rorschach continued to sip his coffee unperturbed, "Apologies, Nite Owl, does it bother you?" He didn't sound very apologetic to Dan. If anything, he was as indifferent as always.

"Well, no." Dan stammered, "Just…you don't seem to keep very clean…and you have several open and scabbing…wounds. And-and if you don't keep them clean, they'll get infected." He stared at Rorschach, hoping he'd get the hint.

He didn't. "Trust there's a point, Nite Owl?" He looked up from his cup, "If smell doesn't bother you, then--"

"Well…it does a _little_. That and the fact that you're basically a walking infection waiting to happen. I mean…doesn't that bother you?" Dan looked incredulous. Rorschach looked indifferent.

He shrugged his uninjured shoulder, "The body is self cleaning. Has been since the beginning of our existence. Didn't require soap before we were 'civilized'--" Dan could hear the air quotes, "don't need it now. The only reason products such as soap and other so-called hygienic products exist is at the urging of the pharmaceutical companies."

Dan blinked, utterly confused, "How do you figure?" He was probably going to regret asking, but he wasn't exactly following.

Rorschach studied him for a second, probably trying to figure out if Dan was mocking him or anything, "Soap and other cleaning products kill generally harmless bacteria necessary for a healthy and strong immune system. Thus, the body is susceptible to more dangerous viruses and bacteria, requiring intervention by the pharmaceutical companies by way of medicines and injections. Therefore, the pharmaceutical and personal hygiene companies profit and we pay for it. The introduction of fluoride in the water only reinforces theories."

"But…isn't that just supposed to help with kids' teeth? Making them stronger and healthier and all that?" Dan interjected quickly.

Rorschach made a sound that sounded like an all-suffering sigh, "_Supposed to_, Nite Owl. Doesn't."

"Oookay…then what does it do?"

Rorschach grunted, "Not sure yet. Believe that it could contribute to the increased crime rates. Could also weaken and kill brain cells. Have heard reports that it could turn people into homosexuals." Dan had to laugh at that.

"No way, Rorschach," he chuckled, positive now that Rorschach was just messing with him, "There's no way that _the water_ could turn people gay. I don't think it's that simple."

Rorschach shrugged again, "Believe what you want, Nite Owl. Am not considering any theories impossible until further investigation."

Dan realized then that Rorschach was _not_ kidding. Amazed and not really knowing what to say, he stared at his partner before saying, "I did not know that."

Rorschach almost chuckled. Almost. "There's a lot you don't know, Nite Owl."

Almost against his will, Dan's mouth opened, "Oh yeah? Like what?"

It was the weirdest conversation Daniel had ever had with another human being.

According to Rorschach, television broadcasts from the major news and governmentally headed stations emitted high frequency waves that were received by the subconscious parts of the brain. These frequencies translated into messages that encouraged unquestionable loyalty to the central government and those in authority, which explained the irrational sense of relief that people feel seeing a police officer when they were in a dangerous situation, or why most people follow, with explicit trust, the directions of those in uniform. Also, (and Dan _should_ have been offended by this one) that the Mafia and other crime organizations, in their quest for global dominance, have formed a coalition with the Jewish bankers for financial dominance over the government-

"Wait, now hold on," Dan interrupted, trying to contain his laughter, "Okay, I'm Jewish. And my dad was a banker, he made me intern there one summer when I was seventeen. I can quite safely say that the only dangerous thing in there is the danger of dying of boredom. Really, there's no mafia there, nothing sinister, just a bunch of stuffy men in suits. I promise."

Rorschach considered him for a second, "Obviously, your father knew you weren't of the mindset to continue his work and he sought to protect you through ignorance. Fortunate, you would not have worked well with organized crime. Too strong of a moral compass for that."

Dan blinked. Wow. "So…what about aliens?"

Rorschach looked at him, "What about aliens?"

"Well, do you think they exist?"

"Of course." Rorschach's tone implied it should be obvious, "There are billions upon billions of stars with an equally infinite amount of solar systems. Why should we be the only system with life forms? Shouldn't assume we are it. Human arrogance."

Dan smiled, "All right. I'll give you that one. Well…what about ghosts? Do you believe some people come back after they've died?"

Something changed in Rorschach's demeanor then. His countenance (even with the mask) grew darker and Dan felt as though he had woken something dark and hurt inside of his partner. Rorschach growled,

"They better not."

-

-

-

-

A/N: YAY! Oh, Rorschach, you little nut. So this was another fun one. A little sad at the end though, which wasn't really my intention, these guys kinda run from me a little bit. And all of these conspiracy theories I got off the internet. Seriously, just google "list of conspiracy theories" and you get a lot of weird stuff. I just chose the ones that weren't so involved.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's notes: Hey guys! This chapter gave me one hell of a beating, lemme tell you. Rorschach wouldn't stay IC, Dan was super boring and vague and the voice and pacing was all off, so I tried something new. So, I ended up writing OH MAH GAWD, PRESENT TENSE!!! I know, weird. But it worked out _so_ much better and now Rorschach's not behaving like a tantruming three year old and Dan has a personality! YAY!

Warnings: This one could _maaaybe _be implied slash. If you squint. It was unintentional, just how they decided to take the story. Hey, you try fighting with Rorschach and tell me how you end up! XD

Don't own.

9. Friends

It's not the first time they've ever dealt with firearms. It's an inevitability in their business, and guns in and of themselves aren't that much of a problem. What _is _a problem, however, is the odd time when their owners don't use them immediately in a fight and spring it on them later. So as Nite Owl turns to see that some thug is pulling a gun on his partner when he himself _just happens _to be on the other end of the alley, he makes the uncharacteristic mistake of not thinking.

He runs.

He doesn't throw himself bodily on Rorschach. Even in a life or death situation, he still respects Rorschach's obsessive personal space disorders. That, and doing so would be more than corny, and he didn't think the other man would appreciate something so maudlin. What he does do is give his little partner an almighty shove, knocking him off his feet and effectively moving him away from the shot. He is prepared for the sting of a bullet hitting the armor and the impending bruise. What he isn't prepared for is the numbing pain and the sound of Kevlar tearing. Caught off guard, he reflexively twists and catches another bullet in his shoulder, just under the clavicle. Stupid move, really. As he falls, his brain (the part that isn't registering the burning, numbing pain) realizes, _shit, bullet-piercing rounds?_

Over the roaring in his ears, he hears his partner let out a roar that sounds like "NO!" and is tinged with something suspiciously like anguish, but he's beyond caring about that. As he struggles to blink away the pain, he hears more screaming and the sickening crack of bones, the wet slap of fists on bloodied skin and then

They stop.

For a moment, Dan is terrified, terrified that he'd been down too long, that there'd been too many for Rorschach (as stubborn and tenacious and goddam _scrappy_ as he is) to take on his own. Then he feels hands gripping his shoulders, turning him over. Hears a rough, familiar voice asking, "Nite Owl?" And he must have been imagining the tremor in the voice, because he recognizes it as Rorschach's and Rorschach doesn't _tremor_. No matter what the situation.

He shakes his head slightly and pries open his eyes, "'M all right. Just got… shot." Somewhere in the back in his mind, he knows that humor isn't exactly appropriate, but he can't help crack a shaky smile that probably looks more like a grimace, "I think—can we get to Archie?"

There's an unidentifiable noise from Rorschach and Dan is hauled to his feet. The movement, none too gentle, sends a rush of pain through his arm and to his head. Dan staggers and almost falls over again. Then a thin, hesitant arm wraps around his waist, steadying him. Dan goggles at Rorschach, who is determinedly not looking at him. They make their way to Archie, Rorschach's arm not leaving Daniel's waist even though Dan could probably get on fine by himself now.

There is silence as Rorschach helps Dan out of the top of his Owlsuit and then fetches the medical kit. In the back of his mind, Dan realizes this must be horribly uncomfortable for Rorschach, but every time he offers to take over, Rorschach growls at him wordlessly and Dan takes his cue to shut up. Rorschach's pissed. Dan can tell from the way his shoulders are hunched and the way this hands grip the gauze and the clipped way he talks, leaving out grammar he views as unnecessary.

"Bullet went through arm. Clean wound, not life threatening," he reported shortly, the growl in his voice barely restrained. After a moment, he spoke again, "Will have to remove bullet in shoulder manually. Requires you to hold still. Not life threatening." And without waiting for a reply, he searches around for the tools necessary to get out the bullet.

It hurts like hell, Dan's not gonna lie. Without any sort of anesthesia or painkillers, it feels like Rorschach's ripping out all his nerves in his shoulder. The stitching hurts too, but Dan's been stitched up before, the pain is familiar, almost welcome. He'd never been _shot _before. Still, he doesn't say anything. He doesn't want to make anything worse and destroy what's left of Rorschach's tenuous control over his rising fury.

The ride home is silent as well. Dan puts Archie on autopilot and settles back in the pilot's chair. Rorschach doesn't sit, however. He roams restlessly about Archie, growling quietly and making fists at his side. Dan gets the impression the vigilante desperately wants someone to punch and that that someone is probably him. Wincing at something that had nothing to do with his throbbing arm, Dan turns his attention to the blipping lights on Archie's console and dreading the explosion when they reach home.

When Archie is parked and shut down, Dan turns to say something to Rorschach, but suddenly and blindingly fast, the other man is on him. Seizing him by the front of his suit, he brings Dan's face close to his own and growls out "_Why_?" the anger and the frustration and the hint of something akin to residual fear sends chills up Daniel's spine, and he finds he can't really say anything but the truth and hope Rorschach understands.

"Well, before you get _too _pissed," as if that hasn't already happened, "I wasn't exactly expecting armor-piercing rounds. And," He raises his voice slightly, cutting off whatever reprimand that would readily burst from Rorschach's lips, "You don't have any armor at all. He would've killed you. I'm good for a few bruises if it means I get to keep my friend." He winces inwardly at these words. There he goes again, presuming too much, assuming a familiarity that isn't there. It's all business with Rorschach, nothing more than that.

So Dan is surprised when Rorschach makes one of his surprised noises and sets Daniel down gently. "I am…your friend?' The disbelief in his tone is distinctly heartbreaking and Dan has a sudden, insane urge to hug him.

"Well—well yeah." Dan blushes a little as the next question slips from his lips, "Aren't I yours?"

"Of course." The reply is swift and unbelievable, "A good friend…but…"

Dan blinks, _a good friend? _ It's hard not to show how pleased Dan is with this revelation, but his inner pleasure is short lived because Rorschach is suddenly angry again and is leaning close to his face again.

"Regardless. _Never, ever_ do that again." His voice is terrifying and Dan wonders how he can manage a twisted grin and such a cocky reply.

"I won't if you won't." He retorts, knowing with more certainty than he's ever had in his whole life that were their positions reversed, Rorschach would have done the same thing. Lack of armor be damned.

Rorschach knows it too, because he makes an unhappy noise, but doesn't press the issue. He considers Dan for another moment, "Will you be all right from here?"

Dan smiles, "Yeah, I'm all good. I gotta ice this thing and I'll probably be out for a few days for this to heal." The smile fades; he had forgotten about that. Damn. Just when he makes a significant breakthrough with his partners inflexible walls, something has to get in the way.

Rorschach grunts, "I'll meet you here after patrols, then. Keep you posted." He hesitates, "Should do what you need to speed up recovery time. The city needs every one of us."

Dan's smile is back, because he knows that that's Rorschach for, "Get better soon, I'll miss you on patrols."

"Yeah, I'll be back on my feet before you know it. Don't worry."

Rorschach makes a noise that sounds like a scoff and he turns and walks down the tunnel, melting back into the darkness. Dan smiles wider and his arm and shoulder don't really hurt much right now.

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A/N: YAAAY! This chapter was going to come later, but I think I like it where it is. Hope you enjoyed this, the chapters coming up soon will start getting vaguely important!!


	10. Chapter 10

Author's notes: Hey there everybody, it's been a while, hasn't it? Sorry about that… blame a new job and a really stubborn Rorschach. Actually, this chapter's supposed to come out 2 chapters later, but Rorschach wasn't going to move until this one got done. And we all know the consequences of arguing with Rorschach. So here it is, in all its glory.

Warnings: You know… I'm not really sure. Maybe I should stop putting this up…

Do not own. Still

3. Names

Something was bothering Nite Owl, Rorschach could tell by the way he moved, quick and jerky. And by the way he talked, all awkward smiles and stammers. True, this was how Nite Owl usually talked; awkward and stammering, all the while grinning stupidly, but this time was different. Anyone else wouldn't have been able to pick up on it; he was trying very hard not to show his nervousness, but over a year of partnership had made him attuned to his friend's mannerisms and body language. This was helpful in a fight; he could tell where Nite Owl needed him to be before he even needed to say it. And vice versa. But in the quiet times, when there was nothing to distract him from the fact that they didn't necessarily _need_ to be so familiar with each other, it grated on his nerves.

Patrol was over. They were flying back to Nite Owl's basement where they would shake hands and part for the night. They did this every night and Rorschach didn't complain. Even though it would be far more efficient to have Nite Owl drop him off nearby. However, he said nothing. He liked the routine, the daily reaffirmation that they weren't just partners, they were also friends, the human contact that Nite Owl seemed so eager to give. And that Rorschach was disturbingly willing to take. However, if Nite Owl continued fidgeting like that, the only contact Rorschach would give is a fist to his face.

He sighed, "Something bothering you, Nite Owl?"

The taller man jumped, "Wa-what? Oh… no. Not really." He chuckled nervously and adjusted his goggles. Liar. "Why do you ask?"

Rorschach hoped the withering glare he was giving the man transferred through his mask, "You've been fidgeting relentlessly _all night. _Playing with belt, adjusting goggles, poking buttons on ship… you set it to autopilot, Nite Owl. Why are you pretending to drive?" He looked sternly at his friend, who appeared to be blushing, "Don't lie to me, Nite Owl. Are an awful liar."

The flustered Nite Owl let out a strained laugh, "Damn, man. Am I really that readable?"

"No." The response was offhand, Rorschach had no occasion to lie, "just know you better."

The smile Nite Owl gave him was more genuine this time, and Rorschach decided to try a different tactic, "Still, fact remains that something is bothering you. Making you nervous. I would like to help if I can." Suddenly, irrationally, Rorschach felt incredibly self-conscious, "Understandable if you don't wish to talk however. Personal business can remain personal and…" He trailed off, startled that Dan had stood up. Not really sure what was going on, Rorschach stood up too.

"Nite Owl?" He asked uncertainly as his friend smiled at him, looking equally uncertain.

"Rorschach, don't freak out here, okay buddy?" His voice and tone was deliberately slow and soothing, as if he expected Rorschach to jump out the window at any moment, "I just… okay, and understand I expect _nothing_ from you, just don't…punch me in the face or jump out the window or anything, okay."

Rorschach had decided by now he didn't really like where this was going. He took a tentative step away from the nervously smiling man. What was he talking about? He couldn't think of a single thing Nite Owl would want to do that would elicit an _intentionally_ violent response from Rorschach. Nite Owl was usually a prudent and tactful and safe man; surely nothing _he_ did would be so bad—

Nite Owl's hands flew to his goggles and before Rorschach could say one thing about how his fingers would be broken if he was going to fidget with his goggles while talking to him—

He pulled them off.

His eyes were brown.

But Rorschach was surprised to note that he's already known that. Somehow, he's always known. Rationally, of course, it was most probable that his eyes were brown seeing as it was the most common—

Nite Owl's hands were moving to the back of his head, grabbing fistfuls of brown Kevlar.

He pulled.

Distantly, Rorschach felt that he really should be more surprised.

His hair was brown too. And his cheekbones were high and well set and his nose was probably a little too large but it worked and there was a little indent on the bridge of it where goggles (and most probably, glasses) had been set. His face was full and earnest and colored with wary caution and

Rorschach already knew this.

The man holding Nite Owl's hood (because he wasn't really Nite Owl anymore and somehow, Rorschach couldn't really remember a time when he _was_) stepped cautiously forward and extended a hand.

"Hi," he said nervously, a brown curl falling over his forehead, "My name is Daniel Dreiberg."

Rorschach didn't know that.

The sole piece of new information jolted him out of his stupor as surely as if it were a bucket of ice water. He stumbled backward away from the hand, the implications of what has just occurred ringing in his mind. Daniel –because that's all he'd ever been—stepped forward in what he probably though was a calming manner. But to Rorschach, it just looked stalking.

"Hey, Rorschach. Calm down buddy," The taller man soothed, "It's okay. You don't have--"

"Transactional. Everything is transactional," he croaks, suddenly very aware of the fact that they were in Archie, several hundred feet in the air. There was nowhere to go. Rorschach was trapped with the man who expected too much of him. Who always gave up too much of himself and never asked anything in return. Now he would come and collect his favors…

"What? No, no!" Daniel almost laughed, "Geeze, you never listen to me! I told you, you don't have to-to show me anything. I don't need to see what you look like, or who you are or what your name is. Now, I'm not gonna lie," He chuckled wryly, "I would _love_ to know all of these. But not if you're not ready to tell me."

Rorschach stared at him suspiciously, "Why show me your identity then?"

Daniel shrugged almost nonchalantly, "I wanted you to know. It was important to me. Just like it's important for you to let me know that—that you're always going to have my back and that what we do is good work and needs to be done. Even on the nights when it doesn't seem like it. And that I'm the only friend you've got." This was said without pity or condescension, just matter-of-factly, like it was a given, "and I'm doing this to show you that…" He blushed, the red more apparent on bare skin, "That you're the only one I've got too, I guess. Nothing transactional, I promise." The grin was back, larger and unimpeded by brown material and Rorschach nodded.

The rest of the ride was filled with familiar conversation. As if nothing had happened, as if Rorschach wasn't suddenly crushed by the weight of the trust Daniel had shown him, eased only by the relief that Daniel understood enough not to ask the same. Everything _was_ transactional, but Rorschach would reciprocate in other ways.

But Daniel already knew that.

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A/N: Yes! Now I don't have to have Rorschach call him "Nite Owl" all the time. I'm not gonna lie, I don't think Rorschach will ever call him "Nite Owl" again… Which makes the both of us very happy. I think he was as sick of calling Dan "Nite Owl" as I was typing it.

IMPORTANT UPDATE HERE: I know I originally planned this to be 100 drabbles. I had 100 planned. But I went back a couple days ago and re-read them all and was just like "WOW REDUNDANT." So, at the risk of everyone (including myself) getting bored at the same old stuff, the number of drabbles is cut in half. 50 drabbles (give or take) seems like more than enough to keep the story flowing. Thanks guys!!


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Notes: Hullo! For today's segment, we have Rorschach being weird and Dan exhibiting his saint-worthy patience. Bless his little Dan heart. Also, many fervent apologies for the lateness. Rorschach refused to have a motive for the longest time.

I wish I owned Watchmen. It would be distinctly lacking of blood in the snow…

11. Break In

It was the clatter of what very well have been another little owl figurine that littered his kitchen (and well, let's face it, his whole _house_) that jerked him out of his sleep. Dan's eyes flew open and he shot up from his bed. Shifting his casted arm nervously, he crouched in his darkened bedroom, his head tilted to the door. He waited for another sound, any sort of disturbance to signal that what he hadn't just dreamt the first time.

A minute ticked by and Dan was about ready to go back to bed, curse his broken arm and wish (for the millionth time in the past week and a half) he'd been on patrol that night when the complaining of his old refrigerator door jerked him back to attention. Someone was definitely there, all right. Blood and adrenaline pounding through his ears, he considered his options. There was no way he, the goddamned _Nite Owl_ was going to be robbed, it just rankled his pride _way_ too much. So then, the only other option was to take some kind of punitive action. Dan blinked at his own thoughts, _punitive actions? You're starting to sound like Rorschach._

Rorschach wouldn't let a broken arm stop him. Granted, Rorschach was left handed, having a broken _right_ arm wouldn't really faze him very much. But the point remained: Rorschach would find some way to use his injury to his advantage. Dan entertained himself briefly with the idea of Rorschach terrorizing people with a casted limb before the dull scrapings of someone rummaging through his cabinets forced him back into focus. _Okay Dreiberg, _he thought to himself over his pounding heart, _think like Rorschach, you can do it._ Taking a deep breath, he pushed his door open and stalked silently down the hallway, thick socks muffling his padded steps. When he reached the door of the kitchen, he steeled himself, unused to having to do battle in his own _house_. Fists clenched, he moved from the shadows to peek through the crack in the door to gaze upon his intruder. His eyes widened.

It _was_ Rorschach. Speak of the Devil.

For a moment, Dan just stood there, blinking. Suddenly, he was absolutely convinced he was having a very vivid dream. There was _no way_ Rorschach could be in his house. The man had just gotten used to calling him Daniel and sleeping on a cot in the basement when he was really spent. No way would Rorschach break that so-sacred barrier and acknowledge the reality of Daniel's Other Life. And yet. Rorschach was still standing, back to the door, messing with something in front of him on Daniel's counter. Dan swallowed and pushed the door open all the way.

"Uhh… Rorschach?" Dan cleared his throat nervously.

Obviously taken by surprise, Rorschach shot almost a foot in the air, jerked around and dropped what appeared to be a spoon onto the floor. The spoon was full of peanut butter. Dan struggled to suppress both a smile and the sense of satisfaction at finally being the one to startle Rorschach for once.

"Daniel," Rorschach also (_for once)_ seemed to be stumbling over his words, "You are supposed to be asleep."

Dan ignored this, "Y'know, if you were hungry, you could have just come earlier. I sure could have used the company."

Rorschach swallowed so loud Dan could hear it, "Couldn't." He replied swiftly, "Had work to do. Besides, you're supposed to be resting. Minimizing your time incapacitated. Also," he added, as though the thought just occurred to him, "You have a horrible lock."

Dan blinked at the non sequitur, "Oh. Do I?"

Rorschach nodded, seeming more comfortable with this line of conversation, "Yes. If I'd had ill intentions, I would have broken through that in a second."

Dan swallowed, "So can I take this to mean that you kicked my door down?"

"Not this time." Dan couldn't tell if Rorschach was teasing or serious, but he opted for the more optimistic possibility. He smiled, "Well, all right then. New lock for me, it looks like. So… ah--" He bent down and picked up the spoon full of peanut butter, "Just dropped by to test my lock and eat my peanut butter?"

It had meant to come out as a joke, but the tone of it changed somewhere on its journey from Daniel's mouth to Rorschach's brain. The smaller man shuffled awkwardly. "Apologies Daniel," he mumbled stiffly, hands fleeing to the nearest pockets, "meant to come back earlier to update you on underworld dealings. I arrived too late, you were sleeping and…" He glanced over at the open peanut butter jar and tried to find more face-saving words before Daniel interjected, embarrassed and exasperated.

"Rorschach, I was only kidding," Daniel smiled reassuringly, "Any time you want to come in and have something to eat is totally fine with me. In fact," Dan sidestepped Rorschach and threw the spoon in the sink before looking at him again, "I insist."

Rorschach shuffled his feet, obviously uncomfortable and Dan decided to have mercy on him. Still grinning and now wide awake, Daniel gestured to the table, "Sit down, man. I want to hear what I've been missing."

Slowly, Rorschach made his way to the table and sat gingerly on one of Dan's chairs. The way he was acting, he expected one of two things: for something to explode or for Daniel to change his mind with no warning and decide to be mad at him after all. Dan rolled his eyes and grabbed the peanut butter jar and two spoons before plunking himself down across the table. Rorschach stared curiously at the two spoons and Daniel grinned.

"What?" Dan laughed, "I can tell you're still hungry and I want in on this." Without further preamble, Dan picked up one of the spoons and plunged it into the peanut butter. He pulled himself a mighty scoop and stuck it in his mouth.

Rorschach tilted his head to the side, as if scrutinizing him. After a moment of consideration, Rorschach followed suit, pulling up his mask up to the bridge of his nose and pushing a great glob of peanut butter in his mouth. Dan swallowed quickly to make room in his throat for laughter.

"God, I haven't done this since I was a kid," he grinned, "Good call, buddy, I'm feeling better than I have in _days_."

Rorschach nodded thoughtfully, spoon hanging out of his mouth, causing Dan to laugh again. Rorschach allowed himself a small almost smile, curving around the handle of the spoon, which may or may not have an owl design on it. Dan had taken another mouthful of peanut butter before Rorschach spoke again.

"That's good. Patrol has been quiet. Also, not nearly as efficient without Owlship."

Dan snorted around his peanut butter, "Y'know," he mumbled, speech slightly garbled by the thickness that glued down his tongue, "The way you talk, I would think you were only my partner for Archie."

Rorschach was silent just long enough for Dan to fear he had offended or embarrassed him again. Just as he was about to apologize, Rorschach mumbled out, "Conversation is also appreciated."

Daniel beamed at the statement, half hidden behind peanut butter and self-consciousness, "Even when I talk about owls?" He teased. Rorschach snorted.

"I have my limits Daniel. Shouldn't take this as encouragement for slightly obsessive fascination."

Dan choked on his spoon. Spluttering between laughter and cardiac arrest, he pounded the table lightly. Rorschach did not pat him on the shoulder or pound his back like he would is he was someone else. He did, however, allow another almost smile tug at his usually dour mouth and lean forward a little, "Heard it helps to swallow first Daniel."

"Yeah, shut up." Dan gasped out, grinning, "So, will you come back tomorrow."

As soon as the words escaped his lips, he wanted to pull them back in again. He was _enjoying_ himself, goddammit, and there he went, ruining a perfectly good (and rare and precious) moment with his pressuring. Now he knew what was going to happen next. Rorschach would stiffen, clench his fists once (or twice if he was really uncomfortable) and then leave. And this would never happen again. Dammit.

However, as Daniel waited for the inevitable, Rorschach scooped another spoonful of peanut butter and sucked on it thoughtfully, "I'm considering it. You need to be updated on issues of patrol, so you won't be behind when you return. Also," he added, leaning back in the chair, "you happen to have good peanut butter. Not chunky. Don't need superfluous material. Good choice Dan."

Daniel threw his head back and roared with laughter.

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Author's notes: Wow, that turned out weirder than I expected. Blame James Blunt!! He's what I'm listening to!! Anyways, I hoped you enjoyed latest installation. Angst maaaay be coming up next if I can figure out a non-cliché way to go about it. Thanks again for all of the wonderful support in reviews!


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Notes: Hello all! Well, in this installation, we will be riding on the angst train, compliments of Daniel this time 'round. Shocker, I know. I hope you enjoy, this is one of my best chapters yet, I think *sheepish smile*

Warnings: um. Kidnapping and vague _vague_ hints of child abuse/molestation etc. For like a second. But still.

12. Fall Apart

This was bad. Bad, bad, bad, _bad. _The condemning mantra echoed in Dan's head as Nite Owl tore down the alleys, following the retreating shadows and the terrorized screams, barely registering the ever-constant presence bobbing at his left shoulder. His lungs were blazing, heart pumping more adrenaline than blood, and all he could see was the little, terrified face that shouldn't have been out so late at night even if it was only barely dark and where were his parents and why was he out alone and why was he so important that the kidnapper had _run, _had run away from him (and Rorschach, which was never really a good idea) when he shouted…something. Not "stop", though maybe he should have and it certainly wasn't anything coherent, just an enraged, shocked noise that was meant to communicate such things as "let that kid go" and "stop" and "don't hurt him" and "I will kill you" all at once and yet not at all and it wasn't as though he'd never dealt with a kidnapping case before, he had, many times. They always turned his stomach and he'll never forget the first one he took with Rorschach and how when they discovered _what exactly _they were using the children for and _how many_ they had taken, Dan had been frozen with nausea and pain and shock and how Rorschach had screamed and screamed and screamed and there was so much blood and pain and this was exactly the same only _worse_.

It was worse because he had _seen _it. The initial taking. It had happened right in front of his face and he knew before he knew (like he knew when he was about to be punched because of a misstep) that he couldn't get there in time to prevent it. Too fast, not fast enough and now here he was, riding the shockwaves of terror emitted from the small child, scooped up by arms that were not familiar and far too small to put up any sort of real fight and that's why the kidnapper is even able to keep any distance between them is that he's big, tall and muscular and the child is so heartrendingly _small_ and he can't be any more than six and _what the hell was he doing out all by himself?_ Frustration spurred him on when his muscles began to ache and his lungs began to rebel. The man is _right there_ just around the bend and his boots splashed through puddles of water and gasoline and piss and filth and he's _almost there _and when he finds the bastard, he's going to

Wait.

The alley opened up to a busy street and Nite Owl could no longer hear the little boy.

No. No no no no no _no._

Someone kept repeating this in his ear and he wasn't sure if it was him or his partner, who stood, chest heaving beside him, casting around frantically for any sign of the child or his captor. He figured it was him when Rorschach suddenly grabbed his elbow and wheeled him around, intense and frantic in a way only Rorschach could be.

"Daniel," he rasped, and he was breaking his own Unbreakable Rule: Thou shalt not call your partner his first name whilst on patrol. The breach was enough to rip Nite Owl's mind back into sharp focus, "Could not have gone far. Has to be physically worn, especially burdened with a child. Should--"

But what Rorschach thought they should do was drowned out by the screech of tires and the careless driving that spoke more of urgency and the punch drunk wonder that came from getting away with something _huge_. They turned. His brain, sharp and shaky from adrenaline, frustration and fear only registered little bursts. An almost stereotypical white van. Burly arms and a familiar profile. A small little white hand gleaming against the tinted windows. Frantically beating.

There was no time to summon Archie. Nite Owl probably wouldn't even have had the presence of mind if there were. He just exploded from the shadows, dashing after the white car. He didn't really have a feasible plan and the rational part of his mind reminded him that the car didn't tire. He did. But a larger, secret, almost primal part of him positively _growled_ at the thought of giving up the chase and he pushed on. The car sped on, heedless of any traffic and he was heading for the bridge and wait—

An idea that was more of a feeling than a conscious thought struck him and he jerked a hand to his belt and pulled. The little rectangle clutched in his hand, Nite Owl took aim at the skidding tires, gleaming in his racing mind as they touched the entrance to the bridge, just over the Hudson. Where all the dead bodies were.

Nite Owl pressed the button.

A jet of green light buzzed from the point and like an avenging angel, Nite Owl grinned savagely, righteously as he cut away the tires, heedless of the startled (_startled and alarmed and so not _Rorschach_ it should have stopped him_) noises coming from his right, he pressed on, the laser slicing through the van's body and

Wait.

The van skidded out of control, flipped over its nose and crashed, rolling once, twice, thrice and then _over_, over the divide and in the air and he wonders disjointedly what freefall feels like and how it's surprising he doesn't know yet. Then, with a noise that sounds more like Atlas dropping the world than a splash, the almost dismembered van crashed into the black, brackish water of the Hudson.

Where all the dead bodies were.

Daniel's eyes went wide behind Nite Owl's goggles. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly and he was suddenly jerking back into motion, running towards the water when someone pulled him back. He looked dumbly at the visage of black and white and for a moment he didn't know who he was. The strange looking being who seemed to know him spoke his name.

"Daniel," Was that his name, really? For some reason, he thought it was longer. Or with more words. Or maybe he didn't have a name. "Go to Archie. Stay there. I'll come and find you."

Archie. He jolted out of the shorter man's grasp. "We can't—or I…Rorschach." That was this creature's name. Rorschach. Only he wasn't a creature. He was a man. He was Daniel's best friend. Daniel's. Or was he Nite Owl's? He didn't know. "We have to help." That much he did know.

The grip returned, this time on both his shoulders, which he knew distantly should surprise him, "We will. I'll take care of it now. Go on." Behind the man who was _somebody's _best friend and partner, nobody had come out of the water and there _should_ be, there were people in that car. A man and a little boy

Wait.

Realization was cold and biting and crushing and Daniel suddenly collapsed under its weight and maybe Atlas dropped the world on _him_ when he dropped the car into the Hudson. And he had—had… oh god, the little boy.

"Oh god no," Denial was safe and warm and somehow traitorous but he couldn't find it in himself to care, "The…the boy—I didn't…is…" He looked up at Rorschach, suddenly confident this man never lies, "_What did I do_?"

People were beginning to crowd around the water and their frightened faces blanched as they took in the damage. Someone was screaming. Someone else (or it could be the same someone) was crying and they weren't pointing at him yet, but Daniel felt that they were going to start soon.

Rorschach seemed to understand this as well, because Daniel was being pulled to his feet and pushed gently but firmly away from the destruction he had caused.

Death and destruction.

"Go on," Rorschach repeated, "Go to Archie." Rorschach never calls the Owlship Archie. The sudden recollection seemed surreal and silvery as it passed through his mind, but the anomaly of it alerted some untouched part of his brain that this was really, _really_ wrong and _what had he done_? "Daniel." The man who never lies, his black and white partner, his friend, Rorschach was starting to sound worried. His voice was hard, "Go. Back. To. Owlship." The growl, familiarly dangerous, jerked him into movement, little shaky steps back to where he had come from. People were starting to come towards the place where he had been. Where Rorschach still was. He could hear them. They sounded angry.

Daniel staggered back to the Owlship. Archie. He stared at it, gleaming and proud and suddenly he hated it. Hated its cold, proud detachment, its shameless flaunting of the laws of nature and physics. Men weren't meant to fly and this… _thing_ shouldn't even exist. It was useless. It could fly and shoot weapons and all other wonderful things, but it couldn't even save a little boy. Neither could he, really.

Neither could he.

He wasn't sure how long it was before Rorschach came back again, but by the time his partner had returned, Daniel was slumped on the cold ground, leaning against the outer, curved wall of Archie, staring into nothing. He doesn't really notice when Rorschach fumbles with the controls and opens up the ship. He doesn't notice as hesitant hands that are clearly trying very hard to be gentle pull him to his feet and lead him to a chair. What he does notice is a hand on his shoulder after a long pause and a black and white mask that hovers close to his face and even the _inkblots_ look worried. What he does notice is the concern and uncharacteristic softness in the question, "Up to flying the Owlship Daniel?"

He knows it's the closest to "are you all right, Daniel?" as he would ever get. And it makes him lose his control.

With a strangled cry, he jerks his arms around his partner and buries his face in the front of his trench coat and any number of things should be running through his head right now. Like how he really deserves to be slapped in the face for being so _soft_ or how he's probably going to be pushed off and punched in the nose by the very personal space-oriented Rorschach or how Rorschach's coat smells like sweat and grime or how this is really weird and childish of him to do. None of these things ever made it to the forefront because a primal, childish part of him recognized stability and comfort and he clung to it desperately as sobs wrack his whole body, as if in an attempt to wring all the pain out of him. Without ever moving his face from Rorschach's coat, he tried to explain to his partner who must hate him as much as all those other people did. As much as the parents of that little boy will.

What comes out sounds like unintelligible mumbling to Rorschach. But out of that he hears Daniel's voice, wrung out with grief and guilt, "…my fault, shouldn't have…"

Daniel feels arms awkwardly circling his shoulders, hands patting his back maybe a little harder than strictly necessary and hears a rough voice trying _very_ hard to be soft murmur, "Ennk. Wasn't your fault. Just an accident Daniel. Just an accident. You were trying to save the boy and it went badly. You…hrn." There was a pause, considering and thoughtful, "You are a good person, Daniel. This doesn't change that. Regrettable accident. Good lesson for the future."

Daniel almost laughed. Rorschach was trying so very hard, but in the end, the man was who he always was: practical, taciturn Rorschach. He rested his temple on Rorschach's collarbone, still not thinking beyond basic comfort. "I wasn't me." Daniel finally admitted, "I was…someone else. Someone different. I wanted to kill that guy," he waited for Rorschach to pull away from him, disgusted or horrified, but he simply stood there. Reassured, Daniel continued, "I didn't like it. Who I became. I like to think things can be solved without people killing people. I don't like that there's that inside me."

"Inside all of us," came the swift reply, the voice rumbling against Daniel's ear, "What matters is how it is used, for good or for evil. When used for good, can be a powerful defense for those who have none. Just has to be controlled. Just takes time, Daniel. Time and many mistakes."

Daniel nodded against Rorschach's collar. The other man made an 'hrrk' noise and gently pushed Dan off his shoulder. Drained and only distantly embarrassed, he pushed up his goggles to rub at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Hey, Rorschach?"

"Hrn?"

"Have you ever read _Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde_?"

"…Yes."

"Would you ever let me know? If…you know…things ever started looking like that?"

It was a childish question and as soon as the words left his mouth, he flushed, expecting Rorschach to dismiss him and the question and tell him to take them back. Instead, a gloved hand squeezed his shoulder yet again.

"Always, Daniel. Am your partner for a reason."

"Okay. Thanks. Me too."

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A/N: Sad Dan is sad! :( Well, I told you I had to get angst in there anyways, so here it is. More to come I'm sure, but not for a while. This was exhausting!


	13. Chapter 13

Author's Notes: HI. Back again with a chapter that took FOREVER to get out because all Dan and Rorschach seemed to want to do is be angsty. Which does not work for me yet. Have to stick with the plan, boys! The angst will be along soon enough. Haha. Anyways, this was a lot of fun to write because everyone gets to be so obnoxious. Hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Rorschach being offensive. Nothing new.

13. Interaction

Rorschach was never one for socializing. Really, the man didn't interact well (or at all) with anyone but Daniel. And even then, that only worked because Dan had the thick skin and patient sensibilities that complimented Rorschach's slightly abusive "conversation" and was _just_ passive enough to ignore most of Rorschach's offensive-bordering-on-inappropriate "observations" while still being assertive enough that Rorschach would never get _too _offensive regarding Daniel's own viewpoints. Not all the time, at any rate. In fact, though Rorschach never really knew why he bothered, he at least made the _effort _to be more considerate to Daniel's feelings. More so than he had ever done to anyone else.

One night, Dan saw firsthand how good he had it.

They were having a good night. It was late spring and the nights were shorter and warmer, still lacking the balmy feel of summer or the chilling bite of winter. They had stopped a robbery and attempted rape already and both were in good spirits. It was one of those nights that even Rorschach indulged in some of the friendly banter Daniel always insisted on initiating, even at the expense of his own dignity. Rorschach always had a biting wit.

It was this mood of general peace coupled with the fierce satisfaction of beating the crap out of people who deserved it that led to Dan dashing up a fire escape with a childish "catch me if you can" grin on his face. He wasn't sure what he expected Rorschach to do, probably either ignore him or launch into what Dan liked to call his "serious business" lecture, reminding Dan how they had no time for screwing around. Only in more Rorschach terms, usually coupled with some obscure (and sometimes morbid) metaphor that Dan never even tried to understand. What he did _not_ expect was for Rorschach to huff through his mask what sounded like (but _couldn't _be) a laugh and propel himself up to the roof with the grapple gun Dan had made for him after he'd nearly killed himself a few weeks ago. When Dan made it up to where his partner stood, panting slightly, and the slightly smug way Rorschach turned to look at Dan did not escape him.

He let out a loud shout of laughter, "No fair. You can't use technology in a race."

Rorschach scoffed quietly, "You're one to talk. He who has unhealthy obsession with birds and _technology_. Besides," he added with an almost teasing nonchalance, "Would've beaten you regardless. I'm faster than you."

Dan laughed again, not sure where this was coming from, and quite keen to go along with it, "Ah, but I have longer legs."

Dan could feel the glare through the mask and he suddenly wondered if he had gone too far. He'd learned the hard way that his little partner was _very_ touchy about his height. He suspected the man wore lifts but damn if Rorschach was ever going to admit to _that._ Instead of growling out a sharp retort and slipping away, the ink on his mask formed what Daniel could swear was a superior look, "True. But I'm lighter. Don't have so much to haul up stairs."

Daniel's laughter echoed through the rooftop and into the night sky. "R-Rorschach," he gasped out finally, shaking his head, "You're such a jerk."

Rorschach looked as though he was going to reply in kind, but instead jerked his head to the side and went very still. A second later, Dan heard the screams. All humor gone, he and Rorschach jerked into action. The sounds were coming from about two or three buildings over. Nite Owl glanced at Rorschach, a grim smile twisting his face, "You up for some rooftop jumping tonight, partner?"

Rorschach growled, "Always."

Really, it was just lucky that the spaces between the buildings were close enough to jump over if you got a running start. If this weren't so, Rorschach had the gun and it would be Nite Owl who would have to play catch-up. Maybe he should invest in a glider cape, he hated playing catch-up. As it was, Nite Owl's long legs were proving to be to an advantage and he found himself overtaking Rorschach (mostly because at some points Rorschach couldn't physically jump over the gap and had to pull out the gun. It was obviously pissing him off and Nite Owl made a note to tease him about it later).

The sight that met Dan's eyes made him stop dead in his tracks. This sudden stop made Rorschach crash into him. Daniel barely noticed.

"Dan-Nite Owl." Rorschach growled, surprise and irritation causing him to fumble for the appropriate name, "What--? Ennk." If Daniel had been paying attention, the utter eye-rolling exasperation present in that one non-word would have made him chuckle.

As it was, Daniel was _definitely not _paying attention to his partner.

Instead, his eyes were fixed on the scene below, where a fellow costumed hero was breaking up an attempted mugging of a middle-aged man. Only, this wasn't just _any_ costumed hero.

The yellow costume was what gave her away first.

She was beautiful, in a wild sort of way. Her costume hugged every curve of her body, shifting with her skin as muscles clenched and tightened, the sheer yellow material slipping through the night air, as incorporeal and otherworldly as her name would suggest. Her face was screwed up in a feral grin that made him shiver and her brown eyes gleamed with excitement and adrenaline as she engaged with the gang, who looked several _hundred_ times more filthy and incompetent in her company.

He might've watched her fight all day and would've been quite content if a sharp elbow to the ribs interrupted him. He blinked in surprise as he stared down at Rorschach, who was looking incredibly exasperated. Daniel blushed deeply as he realized how he must have looked; she was how old? Fifteen? And he was…what? Twenty-something? He really needed to get a hold of himself. He opened his mouth to try to salvage the situation, but Rorschach saved him the trouble.

"Was saying, Daniel," he grated out as though he was speaking to a really dense kid, "We should probably assist. There are about 8 of them, and she looks too young to handle it herself." He sounded strangely reluctant, as if he would be equally happy just to walk on by if that didn't contradict his very being.

"Really?" Dan glanced back over to the fray, where the second Silk Spectre had just incapacitated another man, "She looks like she's doing pretty well for herself."

Rorschach pinched the bridge of his nose through his mask before looking back up at him, blots converging into what was certainly a glare, "Don't worry Daniel, won't spoil the view."

Dan frowned, "Hey, now, I didn't mean--" But Rorschach was already gone, off the roof and into the thick of things, as usual. Sensitive jerk.

Now, Dan _was_ going to go down and help. Really, he was. But watching the two of them, they didn't look like they really needed it. Silk Spectre (Laurie, he remembered her name was) only glanced up in momentary surprise when Rorschach seemingly leapt out of the sky to take out an opponent to the left of her. Then, she promptly decided to ignore him and continue doing what she was doing. Watching the both of them battle it out was hypnotizing. Rorschach and she had very little in common fighting-wise aside from a certain inherent grace Dan had never quite achieved. Silk Spectre, on one hand, moved with a delicate ferocity, keeping her enemies at an arms length before lashing out with a well placed kick here, a swift jab there. There was a definite ballet to her steps and lightness to her swift steps. Rorschach, however, was full of brutal intensity and almost frantic energy. He fought as if every fight was personal (and maybe, to him, it was) and preferred that he be surrounded by adversaries, more comfortable being close to violence and harm than in contact with a friendly hand, or a supporting arm, something that always made Daniel a little sad. Rorschach tore into his foes, as opposed to merely incapacitating them and sometimes, secretly, Dan wished he had that same ferocity.

Dan hadn't intended on stepping in at that point until one thug, whom both fighters had thought was down for the count, staggered up behind Rorschach with a crowbar in hand. Dan leapt off the fire escape then and crashed down onto his partner's would-be attacker. The fight was pretty much over then, and all three vigilantes looked at each other, not particularly sure what to do next.

Rorschach spoke up first, "Nice of you to join in, Nite Owl." He commented dryly.

Dan flushed, but before he could say anything to justify himself, the Silk Spectre—Laurie, stepped forward, brown eyes flashing angrily, "Hey," her voice was young and angry, rough through panted breaths, "Not that I don't appreciate your guys' help" which she really didn't, judging by her tone, "but I really didn't need it. I was getting along fine without you guys, really. Just because I'm a little young, and a girl--"

"Age aside," Rorschach cut in, with a tone that made Dan wince and stifle a groan, "You telegraph your hits, every one. Make it incredibly obvious where you are aiming and how fast you plan to strike. Your feints were pitiful also. Were the criminals not possible distracted by the _merits_ of your costume you would have almost certainly--"

"And what the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?" She interrupted, her voice shrill with shock and anger. A blush crept up her face and Dan felt really bad for her.

"Put it bluntly, the goal of your attire is obvious. To distract men with revealing costume, put their focus away from the battle and onto their other, base desires. An obvious alternative, considering actual fighting skills are lacking." Rorschach almost shrugged, the air of condescending hopelessness coming off him in waves.

Really, Dan expected Laurie to burst into tears at this point. Instead, her scowl deepened and she clenched her fists, "_Oh really?_ Well, I'll have you know, _big man_," Dan winced, Rorschach growled, "that I didn't choose this costume and my fighting skills are just fine. Thanks for your concern." The amount of sarcasm that dripped from her last words was admirable, and Daniel was certainly impressed. Looks like she didn't back down from a fight either.

"Concern has nothing to do with it," Dan was beginning to wonder if he should step in, but it was like watching a car crash, you couldn't help but watch, "And who chose costume is equally irrelevant. If you don't have the moral fortitude to change from a whore's costume--" He was interrupted by an enraged yell and a little black-covered fist speeding to his head.

Secretly, Dan wished she'd gotten a hit in.

Instead, Rorschach caught the fist easily and held it there, a few inches from his nose. "See? Telegraph your hits. Also, temper tantrum is unnecessary, was merely pointing out that--"

Dan had heard that before. With Rorschach, the words 'was merely pointing out' usually followed something more offensive than the original argument. He decided now was as good as ever to cut in, "Hey, Rorschach," He tugged at the man's wrist and he dropped her hand, "knock it off. It's none of your business what she wears and I thought she was doing fine. We're not all perfect anyways."

"Yeah," Laurie piped up, unwilling to let Rorschach get in the last word, "Didn't he have to jump down from wherever to save _your_ ass in that fight back there? Sure as hell wasn't _mine_." Crap. Daniel winced, she had a point but he hadn't stepped in to play Gang Up on Rorschach. That did _not_ sound like a very smart thing to play at any rate and it would be _Dan_ who would have to suffer for it.

"W-well," Dan stammered, backtracking, "It's not as though Rorschach doesn't save my ass on a regular basis. I mean—that wasn't the… what I meant to say was--"

"Save it, Nite Owl." Rorschach cut through Daniel's awful attempt at smoothing things over, "Going now. Have better things to do with my time." He pushed his hands in his pockets and turned on his heel. And really, that should have been the end of it. But, as it turns out, some people can be just as graceless winners as Rorschach himself.

"Looks like somebody got their feelings hurt," Laurie called out at him, embarrassment and anger still reddening her cheeks, "He's a sensitive little guy isn't he?"

Dan wasn't really sure how he'd managed to move that fast, but somehow he found himself with an armful of angry Rorschach growling those little non-words that all screamed 'I've had it'. Laurie had stepped back, surprise and a little bit of alarm flashing across her face.

"All right, the both of you need to knock it off!" Dan snapped using his best I'm-in-charge voice, "You," he jerked Rorschach back so hard the shorter man rocked back on his heels to keep his balance, "don't pretend like you didn't deserve that. And you," he looked sternly at Laurie, "need to get a thicker skin if you wanna keep it up here. I know it may sound crazy, but there are ruder people than Rorschach in this world and you're gonna run into a lot of them. So calm down a little bit." He sighed, knowing Rorschach was already gone, "Look," He said to Laurie, "I'm sorry he was a jerk. It's how he is, you just got to get used to it. He shouldn't have said what he did and you're a fine fighter. I'll see you around, okay?"

She nodded, "Thanks for sticking up for me." She smiled at him then, a thin, but sincere quirk of the lips

Dan blushed, "It's nothing. Just… you might need to get better at taking criticism. You _do_ telegraph your shots a little."

She grinned wryly, "Sure. Thanks Nite Owl."

"Oh, it's Dan," He offered, surprising himself, "I figure, everyone knows your name, it's only fair you should know someone else's."

Her smile widened, turning genuine and warm, "Thanks Dan. I hope I didn't get you into too much trouble with your friend."

Dan laughed, "Oh, you did. But it's okay. He was acting way too good tempered for it to last." That was supposed to sound teasing but came out wry instead, "Don't worry about it. I'll see you around."

She nodded, "See ya."

And as Daniel predicted, Rorschach didn't speak to him for the rest of the night.

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Author's notes: Hooray for jerk!Rorschach and for Laurie ruining everything!! Haha. Hope you enjoyed this one, I had fun writing it. Mostly because I get to verbally abuse Laurie via Rorschach. Which is always fun. Next chapter, we get to meet MORE CHARACTERS and more of Rorschach being about 3 seconds away from murdering Dan. As usual. :)


	14. Chapter 14

Author's Notes: Hello there. This is a chapter that I've waited FOREVER to write and I'm really excited to be doing it. Even though it was a total bitch to get off the ground. And I must confess, this wasn't even my idea. It was my sister's. So thanks, sis. :P

Warnings: Dan being an adorable little idiot and Rorschach wanting to kill him, mostly.

14. Twilight Lady

To say that Daniel was in trouble was an understatement. To say that Daniel was _dead meat_ was also an understatement. There were no words to describe how much trouble he was in and how close he was to death at that very moment. He fidgeted nervously with the end of his cowl and waited for Rorschach to punch his lights out. The shorter man hadn't been this angry since he'd left a captured thug alone for _two seconds_ while nature called and after he'd finished fighting with his costume, the man was gone. Really, this was something of the same vein.

"Well, Daniel?" Rorschach's voice was quiet with forced calm, "Where's the Twilight Lady?"

***

Daniel felt uneasy as he set Archie to hover over a hotel building on the edge of town. This was way too easy. They'd been trailing the Twilight Lady for months, each time they figured out a vital piece of information, she slipped through their fingers again, leaving them with a hastily cleaned out building (warehouse, tenement, _apartment_ buildings) and another tantalizing piece of evidence. Another clue that seemed to give Rorschach's prided detective skills the finger and to make Dan worry for his friend's (and her) sanity. It was really starting to piss Rorschach off, more so than Dan who (secretly) had a lot of admiration for her spunk. Even if she was a prostitute.

But now, it seemed, they finally found her. She'd apparently set up base at a hotel that used to be run by The King of Skin before he and Rorschach had arrested him. It would seem that the place had been kept in the business. They'd been careful this time, too. Watching their moves closely, making sure they didn't do anything to aggressive that would startle her, give them away. It had driven Rorschach crazy; subtlety was definitely not the man's strong point but after the third failed attempt of running headfirst into things as he was wont to do, he was forced to allow Daniel to take over a bit. Not that he would ever admit Dan was right. But Dan wasn't exactly looking for miracles, so he never pressed the issue. Hadn't even teased him.

It was almost funny, how tense and full of furious energy Rorschach was, sitting next to him in Archie, a quivering ball of muscle and rage. Almost funny, because he was like this every time they almost caught Twilight Lady, and Dan found it to be tiring at this point. He sighed, not wanting to press the issue and returned to the thermal screen.

"Okay, so I'm detecting the heat of only about fifteen bodies, so I think we may have actually found the base of operations for her and not just another one of her… erm… brothels." Dan was annoyed at the blush that spread through his face. What was he? Thirteen? "I'm going to refine the images now, so maybe we can see which one is Twilight Lady." Rorschach grunted, leaning forward to the screen. Daniel punched in a couple of keys and the yellow-red splotches quivering on the screen morphed into distinctly human figures. He grinned triumphantly, "Well, it's not being able to see through walls exactly, but it's pretty damn close." Rorschach stared at him flatly. Dan cleared his throat, "Okay… well, anyways. There are three ways into the building; here, here and here," he pointed to different sides of the shifting screen, "And each is manned by two guards. Typical muscle, shouldn't be a problem. There's only one way to get into the room and that's the obvious front door. That's also manned by two guys there." He pointed to two red outlines shifting by a dark blue divide, "And the rest- six plus the Twilight Lady-are inside."

Rorschach made a thoughtful noise, "The six inside, think they're going to be a problem?"

Dan bit his lip in thought, "No. I think they're business associates. Don't want to get their hands dirty. They should be fine." He turned to Rorschach, pulling the goggles over his face, "You ready?" Rorschach grunted again, pushing on his hat and tugging at the handle, opening Archie.

"Okay." Nite Owl followed after him.

They went in through the roof so as to quietly bypass the guards outside. Although Dan suspected Rorschach would rather punch a few people than sneak around, he expertly picked the lock without any complaint. They descended the stairs, tripwire tense and hyper alert to any noises that could signal trouble. They found none.

So it came as a surprise that when they opened the door to the hallway that she and her security personnel were already waiting for them.

Well, shit. Dan thought bemusedly.

"Hello, boys," Twilight Lady laughed saucily and her men opened fire.

The smartest thing they could have done in that situation was to slam the door closed, go up half a flight of stairs and wait for her to come to them. But surprise was a hell of a thing and as much as it shut down the logical parts of Dan's brain, it _really _pissed off Rorschach. So naturally, Rorschach took it upon himself to deprive most of them of their weapons and consciousness. Really, he should have been killed, but Dan supposed it was lucky her security was such a bad shot.

Then again, maybe she did it on purpose.

Laughing in delight, Twilight Lady dashed down the hallway, taunting, "Catch me if you can!"

Rorschach let out one of those snarls that worried Dan and dropped the man he'd been punching and sprinted down the hall. Daniel swore and finished off the last of them as fast as he could, then followed his partner.

When he found them, Rorschach had Twilight Lady cornered in a room. Obviously, Dan had just missed something particularly insulting she'd said to him because he was in the middle of an enraged growl and raised his fist in the air.

Dan lunged forward and caught it. Rorschach was trembling in rage and even his inkblots looked furious, "Nite Owl. What are you _doing_?"

Dan gulped, "Just take it easy man," he answered in what he hoped was a soothing voice, "You can't hit a woman, it's bad form."

There was a stunned shock and Rorschach turned fully to face him, "…What?" There was a snicker from the trapped woman behind them.

"You-you're not supposed to hit women. It's not… it's wrong, you're not supposed to."

Rorschach was looking at him like he'd never seen him before in his life, "You're behaving like a child. I'm not going to _kill_ her. I'm going to restrain her. If she resists, I will use force. She's a criminal, regardless of gender."

"Well, yeah but--"

"Not really in the mood for outdated chivalry, Nite Owl."

"But--"

"Shut up."

Exasperated, Rorschach turned back to the Twilight Lady, only to have her gone. For a moment, they both stared blankly at the empty floor where the woman once stood, then Rorschach slowly trained his gaze up at the ceiling, where a panel was missing and a short end of a cable still swung.

"Well, Daniel?" Rorschach's voice was quiet with forced calm, "Where's the Twilight Lady?"

Dan swallowed a few times, then walked past Rorschach to stand right under the open panel, "Well… she- ah- appears to have escaped by-by shooting a little cable through the…um… ceiling and then climbing through."

Rorschach nodded slowly, "I see. And would it be _any_ use at all to go up to the roof and attempt to apprehend her again?"

"Um…" Dan winced, "Probably not. She could be anywhere. She probably knows some shortcuts out that we don't and uh… she's probably gone by now."

There was an agonizing silence. Rorschach rubbed a fist against his forehead, tipping back his hat at an almost comical angle. Daniel had never seen him at a loss for words before, this was a first. Finally, he spoke, sounding strangled, "One week, Daniel." He held up one gloved finger for emphasis, "Don't want to see you for one week."

Daniel nodded dumbly, throat still dry, "I understand."

Rorschach mirrored his nod and stomped out of the room, shaking his head and slamming the door behind him. Dan resisted the crazed urge to laugh hysterically.

Well, hell.


	15. Chapter 15

Author's Notes: Okay, so this chapter had NO plan other than the title and the lines "Walter has a bad day" in my notebook. So I really have a couple of people to thank for the idea for this one. Firstly to Jackie May because I was in the middle of writing her a big, whiny message about how I don't know what to do for this chapter when I worked out what I wanted to do for this chapter. Which was lucky. For the both of us. Also to Grieverwings, because she's been my Idea Bucket for, like, ever. And Vaudeville, because she puts up with me like nobody's business. I know this is a really long AN, but I was so GLAD I was able to figure out this damn chapter I kept putting off, I thought I might thank them here. Because it's _such _a relief to have this thing DONE.

Warnings: Tailor!schach guys!!! But only kind of. You'll see what I mean. And vague crudeness on the part of three annoying ladies.

15. Bad Day II

Even if Walter had suspected how the day was going to work out, he would still have hauled himself, stiff and bruised from a night of justice, out of his little cot and stumbled into his work clothes. Hardships, he believed, increased your moral fiber, built up character and made you a better, stronger person. So he made it a habit of facing life's trials stoically and taking it like a man. Like his father would have wanted.

Still though, Walter would still be only human for a few more years, and still was willing to admit he had limits.

They were tested almost the moment his bare feet touched the floor of his apartment.

His alarm woke him at 6:30, as usual. However, last night's patrol was so brutal and exhausting that he lay awake the rest of the night unable to sleep. He was used to operating on as little as 3 hours of sleep on a regular basis, so he told himself that this wasn't all that different. He could get through it. He was barely through his breakfast (dry cereal out of the box. The electricity in the building could just as easily spark a fire as it could power a refrigerator and Walter wasn't in the mood to risk burning down his building for the sake of milk) when he heard his landlady through the thin walls and floors haranguing some other tenant for their rent. Sounded like she was downstairs. Walter groaned inwardly, raising his eyes to the ceiling in silent plea. A week. All he needed was one more week before he got paid and would be able to make rent.

Quickly, he pulled on some socks and shoes, ran a toothbrush through his teeth and an impatient hand through his hair. Opening the door as quietly as he could, he poked his head out into the hall and scanned the hallway. Silence and an empty, grungy hallway was all that met Walter's alert gaze. She wasn't yelling at a tenant downstairs anymore and he couldn't tell where she had been…

"She just went up the stairs," a thin voice lisped across the hall. Walter turned his head to see the little boy and girl that sometimes played out in the hallway when Walter came home from work. He'd earned the pair's everlasting devotion after he'd mended the ears of the little girl's stuffed rabbit who, she informed him quite seriously, was named Wrinkles because he didn't have any. They were both now peering out of their door with little smiles on their faces. The little girl spoke up again, "She's gonna come up from over there," she pointed to the door at the end of the hall to his right, "Use the other stairs so she won't catch you." They both looked as though they were party to a great revolution in helping Walter evade the rent and their irritable landlady.

Walter grinned, just a little, and nodded. He'd just grabbed his bag and was locking his door when he heard the unmistakable sounds of Ms. Shairp thundering up the stairs. The boy and girl looked at him excitedly, "She's coming! Run, Mr. Kovacs!" the boy squeaked out, little, chubby fingers flying to his eyes on some childlike reflex. The little girl jumped up and down, nervously urging him to run, giggling frantically.

Rorschach never ran from anything, never started nervously or looked at anything or anyone in dread. But then, Rorschach never had to deal with rent. Or Shairp. So Walter felt perfectly justified in pressing an index finger to his lips, signaling quiet to his little neighbors and lightly bounding down the hallway, their hushed giggles following him out the door.

He was at the foot of the stairs, _home free_, when—

"Kovacs!" Walter winced and turned slowly, forcing his features to blankness as he beheld his landlady looming at the top of the stairs.

"Ms. Shairp." He greeted warily. She glared and lumbered down the stairs. Lovely.

"Don't think I didn't see ya, you little scuzzball." Her creativity when not being lewd was remarkable, "Rent's due. Pay up." She held up one fat hand, palm outstretched, as though she expected him to just have it on hand. He resisted the urge to shy away from her flabby arm. Disgusting.

"Get paid next week. Will have your money by then." He ground out, purposefully looking everywhere but her face.

She scowled, frown lines creasing her white, quivering face, "Fine, Kovacs. One week. Any later and your filthy ass is on the street ya hear me?"

"Yes ma'am." He grumbled, turning and continuing on his way out of the building and into the pale morning sun.

Walter made it all the way to the subway station before he realized he didn't have any change for the subway. He'd left it on the table next to the abandoned box of cereal. Suppressing the urge to tip his head back and scream, Walter merely knuckled this forehead once irritable and turned back to walk his route to work, almost certainly going to be late. It was what he got for being so stupid. Rorschach never forgot anything.

Walter strode down the sidewalk briskly. He was in no danger of losing his job, not that he liked it much anyways, but that wasn't the reason for his haste. He merely felt that he shouldn't supplement being careless with being lazy as well. So despite his muscles aching sharply, Walter forced himself into a light jog all the way to work. His bag, full of cloth, an unfinished project and a small lunch, was painfully bouncing off his side where he'd been hit by a crowbar last night. Walter hated crowbars.

By the time he got to work, Walter was sore and grumpy. And late. His supervisor, a large, balding man with a wrinkled, saggy face was not pleased.

"Kovacs!" He hollered as Walter punched in, "Where the hell have ya been? You're mor'an 15 minutes late! 'M not gonna stand for my employees comin' in late all the damn time! Not gonna stand for it! You unnerstand what I'm sayin' Kovacs? Not gonna stand for it!"

"Yes sir." Walter replied dully. "Won't happen again."

The large man before him purpled and swelled, "You're damn right it's not gonna happen again! You know _why_ it's not gonna happen again? Because _you_, my tardy friend, are on packaging duty today. Yeah, ya heard me," he gloated, gleefully taking in Walter's horrified expression, "packaging duty. But look at it this way kid," he leered happily, "It's probably the only time you'll ever get your hands on lady's underwear."

Walter scowled, feeling the tips of his ears grow hot as he walked by the cackling man. Seething, he shoved his bag into his cubbyhole and trudged over to sit at the assembly line between two other workers. He glared balefully at the underwear and bras hanging on the rack slowly moving past. Growling a little in the back of his throat, he jerked a pair of lace underwear from that was revolving past his head, resisting the urge to shudder in revulsion. If he thought it would have made a difference, Walter would have pointed out to his supervisor that he's never once been late, never once shirked his hours, and always did his work correctly. One accidental tardiness shouldn't result in _this_ kind of punishment. But it wouldn't have made a difference and Walter didn't believe in whining. In life, you had to take the little hardships in stride and you would become a better, tougher individual. He was pretty sure President Truman wouldn't complain over something like this. He would persevere, uncomplaining, against any minor injustices done upon him. And so would Walter.

"You see now, Ruthie, _these _are what I need," then again, President Truman probably never had to listen to the sordid gossip that pervaded the workplace. Walter glanced up to see a large, middle aged woman whom he tentatively remembered as Betty. Greying, with large, drooping eyes and overdone makeup, Betty was holding a lacy, near transparent black bra over her own large bosom. Walter grimaced.

Ruthie, an older woman with a pinched, calculating face (unfortunately taking station immediately to Walter's left) squinted through thick glasses at the lingerie, "Heh. Sure, if they make 'em big enough for _those_ ta-tas, why the hell not?" Walter wanted to go _home._ "Whaddya want 'em for anyways? Bert still not givin' you any?"

Betty nodded mournfully, her extra chin quivering against her neck, "I think he's gettin' bored with me. Mebbe I jus' need to spice things up a bit."

Ruth shrugged in a fatalistic manner, "If you think it'll work, sure. Fer me, I never unnerstood what lacy underpant ever did fer a man. Hell, they get taken off anyways. And the goods unnerneath are still the same."

The girl on Walter's right, only a little older than himself, looked up from her now-filled box of lingerie, "Well, I dunno. I think it's kinda like givin' a present. It's all inna presentation, y'know? An' I think it gives guys a thrill, unwrapping all the works."

Ruth snickered, "Yeah. The gift that keeps on givin'."

The three women laughed, their cackling grating on Walter's already frayed nerves. He was starting to get a migraine and wondered distantly that if he got a concussion on patrol tonight that he would forget this conversation ever happened. It was nice to think about. Suddenly, he felt Betty's eyes fall on him and she crowed, "Uh oh, gals. Lookit that blush! Looks like Walter has some thoughts on the subject. How 'bout it, sweetie? Penny for your thoughts?"

The other two women looked at him, grinning wickedly. Not for the first time, Walter cursed himself and his propensity to blush crimson when embarrassed or angry and he wished fervently for his mask.

Ruth snorted, "Walter wouldn' know what to do with a gal if she stripped and gave him a lap dance." Walter felt himself blush deeper and they cackled louder, obviously pleased by his obvious discomfort.

"Aw. Leave the poor kid alone. He could have a girl. Whaddo you know anyways?" the girl on his right piped up in his defense. He wished she wouldn't.

"_Walter_?" Ruthie scoffed, "Not with that face, Mary." She shook her head, apparently unconcerned with any offence her words could cause.

Betty leaned across the table, scrutinizing his face, "Well, I dunno Ruth, he's gotta cute nose."

Ruth leaned her pinched, wrinkled face close to Walter's, who couldn't lean away lest he lean onto Mary. She smelled like cigarettes and grease. Finally, she leaned away and Walter suppressed a relieved sigh. "I guess so. Freckles make him look like a little kid though." She ignored his scowl, unperturbed.

Mary laughed, "Well, at least they ain't moles or zits or somethin'. And besides, he's got heartbreaker eyes."

"Mmhmm." The other two women nodded in agreement. "You got some pretty blue peepers kid," Ruth nodded with authority.

Walter blinked slowly, not particularly sure if running away screaming would result in him losing his job. Probably.

"Not to mention, kid," Betty winked at him, "Ya gotta _nice_ ass."

Walter jerked to his feet, fully intending to announce that they had no right shoving their depravity on him. But all that came out was a strangled "_Hurrk."_ He turned sharply, stumbling over his feet in his haste. At this point, Walter didn't think about his meticulously cultivated dignity, or the fact that he was a grown man. In a few moments, he was not going to be responsible for his actions and he had to do what needed to be done to for the safety of his fellow workers and his sanity.

He was going to hide in the bathroom until lunchtime.

* * *

When Walter left work at 5:00, he was ready to break some skulls. He sat in his apartment, staring impatiently for the sun to fully set. When it was dark enough, Walter pulled on his costume and left the day behind him.

It was like releasing a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding; like waiting anxiously for the results of an examination and then discovering you'd surpassed your own expectations. It was like becoming someone greater than you. Like moving beyond a poor, quiet, little man with only a high school education and becoming someone greater, stronger, and more clever than an ordinary soul. A little like President Truman. Or a brave soldier named Charlie.

Smiling thinly through his mask, Rorschach left his apartment and strode purposefully to Daniel's house. He liked coming over early so he could watch his friend work on some new project or invention. Rorschach regarded Daniel as something of a technical genius, and the fact that he used his intelligence and resources allowed Rorschach to overlook Daniel's liberal sensibilities and compromising ideals. Just barely.

When Rorschach ducked out of the shadows of the maintenance hatch and into the fluorescent light of the Owl's Nest, Daniel was where he knew he'd be: sitting on the workbench, hunched over some new device he'd created.

"Hello Daniel," Rorschach greeted, looking over his friend's shoulder. Daniel, too engrossed in his work to notice his arrival, jumped and let out a startled yell.

"Jeeze Rorschach." He laughed, pushing unruly brown curls out of his eyes, "Try and make some noise next time or something, okay man?"

Rorschach grunted dismissively, "Mind if we patrol early tonight?"

Dan blinked, "Sure. Sure, no problem. Something up?"

Rorschach considered his friend for a moment, "Had… hurm …had a frustrating day."

Dan grinned, clapping his shoulder, "Yeah, I know how that feels. You wanna talk about it?"

"No."

"Didn't think so. Well, come on, buddy. Let's go beat the crap out of people who deserve it."

"Thank you Daniel."

-

-

-

A/N: Wow that was a monster. Haha. As some of you may have noticed, I made Walter's eyes blue. That's because I liked them blue personally, even though I am attempting to be as GN as possible. Also, it seemed the general consensus of people who responded that blue would be okay with them. And thus, Walter's eyes are blue. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I did. It was fun to pick on Walter. :)


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Hey guys! So are you ready for some Crimebusters fail-fest?? Yay! There was actually a chapter that was supposed to come before this, but it stopped being funny and started being ANGSTY and I have no idea why. Sooo… this comes first because it flows better, I think.

Warnings: none.

16. Crimebusters

"C'mon, c'mon, _c'mon_ Rorschach, we're gonna be late!" Dan was rushing Rorschach through tying an unconscious criminal to a lamppost, which Rorschach did not appreciate.

"Nite Owl, we have an _airship_. Not going to be late. Shouldn't rush things." Rorschach glared at his impatient friend who was currently bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement, "Don't see the hurry anyways. Not going to be like another Minutemen, Nite Owl. Shouldn't want another Minutemen either. Had enough problems as it is. Don't expect new generation is going to offer anything more than new problems. Besides, they all _lived_ together."

Daniel, who up to this point had been ignoring Rorschach's grumblings, looked at him in surprise, "Yeah… some of them did. I'm pretty sure you don't have to. Hollis didn't. Is _that_ what's bothering you?"

"No." Which Dan took to mean _yes but I'm not gonna admit it,_ "Merely something to consider. You might end up in a room next to Dr. Manhattan Daniel. Wouldn't be so amazing re-living Mason's life now, would it?"

Dan snorted, "Right. Or you might end up across the hall from Silk Spectre. That's what's really bothering you, isn't it?"

Rorschach looked vaguely scandalized at the suggestion, then shrugged, "Not wholly. Just shouldn't get your hopes up, Daniel. Past isn't always a wonderful place."

"Yeah, I know. It's just… Okay, so you know when I was a kid I was really into mythology and stuff?" Dan explained, blushing.

"Still interested in mythology and stuff. Named Owlship Archimedes. Going to assume it wasn't after mathematician."

Dan laughed, "No, it was after--"

"Merlin's pet owl from Sword in the Stone, yes Daniel, I know."

Dan looked surprised, "Did I already tell you…?"

Rorschach shook his head, "No. Surmised it from previous conversations and your penchant for asinine Disney movies."

Daniel laughed harder, "Haha, you'll never forgive me for that, will you? Look, I know Walt Disney wasn't the greatest guy ever, but that doesn't mean I can't like his movies."

"Book is superior."

"Well, yeah. They usually are… Oh nevermind! This is not the point I was trying to get at! Okay, so as a kid- and yes, now- I was really into King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. I mean, when I was a kid, I wanted to be like Sir Galahad and ride around the country saving people. This crime fighting thing sorta came out of those fantasies. So to hear that Captain Metropolis is trying again… I think it's fantastic."

"Chivalry was only shown to women of high rank and noble birth among knights. Historically, knights would take advantage of those of lower rank, especially feudal serfs. To demonstrate their authority, or merely because of boredom."

Daniel frowned, "Thanks man. I'm not sure what you're trying to--"

"Am trying to tell you, Daniel," Rorschach looked over at him, "That things are not always so good and noble as the past paints them. Establishments are rarely so. It is up to the _individuals_ whether or not they wish to be pure and good." He paused, staring intently at Daniel, "Don't need to be part of a group to do good."

Daniel smiled, "Yeah, okay. Thanks." He opened Archie's hull and started up the engines, "You know that even if this thing goes through, you're still my partner, right?"

Rorschach was silent for a moment, then he looked at Dan almost teasingly, "Not so sure, Daniel. Seemed quite enamoured with Silk Spectre last time we saw her. Would make excellent partner."

Dan laughed again, "Aw, shut up you creepy jerk."

"Am not creepy Daniel."

***

"Well, firstly, let me say I'm pleased to see so many of you here. Very pleased," The man in an Air Force style uniform and blue cape beamed out at them all, "Secondly, for those who only know me as Captain Metropolis, the name's Nelson Gardner. Call me Nelson," Rorschach shifted nervously beside Dan, who gave him a reassuring look, "Third, uh, I guess I should welcome everybody to the first ever meeting of the Crimebusters!"

A man in leather armor with combat boots on the desk belched. Dan glared at him pointedly, which earned a pointed glare shot _his_ way from his own partner. Rorschach had something of an inexplicable hero-worship for the Comedian. Dan couldn't see why, the Comedian was rude, ruthless and, from what Hollis told him, not a whole lot better than the people they arrested on the streets. It was actually kind of disturbing how Rorschach was willing to excuse or ignore the Comedian's past misdeeds, only accepting him as a hero and a costumed veteran. It was like how Daniel saw Hollis. Only Dan wasn't delusional about it.

"Bullshit." The word and a breathful of smoke billowed out of the Comedian's sneering mouth, interrupting Nelson's speech. Nelson looked shocked.

"What?"

"I said bullshit," the Comedian continued belligerently, "This whole idea, this Crimebuster shtick, it stinks."

"Th-that isn't true." Nelson stammered, looking for all the world like a kid getting picked on in the playground. Dan was compelled to speak up.

"Uh, listen, let's not throw the idea out right away," Dan raised his hands in what he figured to be a diplomatic gesture. Rorschach shifted behind him and suddenly, Dan wondered whose side Rorschach would take if it came to it. The immature jerk in Dan decided to test it out, "Me and Rorschach have made headway into the gang problem by pooling our efforts."

Dan could tell Rorschach knew what he was doing as he glared at the back of his head. "Obviously, I agree," he said, trying to sound as neutral as possible, "But a group this size seems like a publicity exercise somehow. It's too big and unwieldy."

"Surely that's just an organizational problem?" The blonde man Daniel recognized as Ozymandias spoke up for the first time, "With the right person coordinating the group, I think--"

"Oh, an' I wonder who that would be?" the Comedian's voice was pitched high with false thoughtfulness, "Got any ideas, Ozzy?" he smirked at the blonde man, voice pitched normal, "I mean, you are the smartest man in the world, right?" His tone implied that he had no doubt of it, and also thought it was the most useless thing in the world.

Ozymandias, to his credit, looked unfazed, "It doesn't require a genius to see that America has problems that need tackling."

"Yeah, but it takes a roomful of morons to think they're small enough for you clowns to handle. What's going down in this world, you got no idea. Believe me." Suddenly, he looked deadly and serious and Daniel got the impression he was looking at a man who knew every horrible secret there was in the world. It made him shiver.

"I think I'm as well informed as anyone. Given the correct handling, none of the world's problems are insurmountable," Ozymandias countered coolly. Dan admired his calm. "All it takes is a little intelligence."

The Comedian snorted, "Which you got in spades, right?" He turned to the group at large, "You people are a joke. You hear Moloch's back in town and you think 'oh boy! Let's gang up and bust him!' You think that matters? You think that _solves_ anything."

"Well, of course it matters," this would be the only time Daniel would ever hear Rorschach sound unsure of himself, "If--"

"It don't matter squat. Here--" He reached in his back pocket and pulled out a lighter, ignoring Nelson's weak protests, "Lemme show ya _why_ it don't matter." He lit the display on fire. "It don't matter squat because inside thirty years, the nukes are gonna be flyin' like maybugs," He lit his cigar and strode out the door, "And then Ozzy here," he taunted over his shoulder, "Is gonna be the smartest man on the cinder. Now, pardon me, but I got an appointment." He laughed, harsh and cold, "See you in the funny papers."

There was an awkward silence before Dan heard Dr. Manhattan's girlfriend, Janey whisper to him, "Jon, I think I'd like to go home now, please." Her voice full of hurt and anger. Probably because Jon was making eyes at Laurie the whole time, Dan thought uncharitably. And she's what? Fifteen? And he's older than Daniel. Dan turned to Rorschach only to find him halfway out the door himself. Dan turned hurriedly to Nelson, "Listen, uh, Nelson…this isn't working out. Maybe…"

"Please! Don't all leave!" Nelson pleaded with the retreating backs of the next generation of costumed heroes. Daniel gave him an apologetic look and hurried out the door after his partner. Nelson's words, "Somebody has to do it, don't you see? Somebody has to save the world!" ringing in his ears.

Dan saw Rorschach waiting patiently for him outside the Owlship. He forced a smile and opened the hatch. They flew halfway to Daniel's house before Rorschach broke the silence.

"Understand you're disappointed Daniel. Can't say I'm surprised, but am sorry for your sake."

Dan grinned wryly, "It's okay buddy. I guess it wouldn't have been the same anyways."

"It wouldn't." Rorschach affirmed, "But you still would have done good."

"_We_ would have done good, you mean," Dan grinned at him, "We're partners. Sorry I put you on the spot back there against the Comedian."

"Ehn. Should know better than to cross masked veteran Daniel."

Daniel smiled, "I almost thought you weren't going to say anything."

Rorschach turned fully to look at him, "Wouldn't embarrass you like that."

"I know. I'm sorry." There was a pause, and then Daniel chuckled, "You know what I almost told him, at the beginning when he was drinking that shit from that flask?"

"What?"

"That maybe we should agree to no drinking at meetings. Just to see what he'd say."

Rorschach groaned, "Glad you didn't embarrass _me_ like that. Would have been the stupidest thing you've said in a while."

Daniel laughed, "Yeah, I know. But still. I kinda wish I had. I only didn't because I was a little intimidated." He grimaced, not liking to admit it.

"Comedian is intimidating man." Rorschach shrugged, "It's understandable."

"Yeah, and you were worried about me and Silk Spectre!" Dan teased, "What about you and the Comedian? _There's _a match made in hell."

"Now who's being creepy Daniel?"

-

-

-

A/N: Yaaay! Fail-fest! Whoo! Well, this was written in about a half an hour right before dinner. It's not the most exciting thing to ever reach the screen. Haha. And you may have noticed that, as tempting as it was, I didn't go movie!verse on this one for a few reasons. One: there was no Nelson. This I found to be unacceptable, I love Nelson, he's adorable. Two: "Why don't we all agree to no drinking at meetings" Dan?? Really? I thought it was a silly thing to say. Adorable, but silly and I feel like Rorschach woulda punched him or something for it. And I reeeaaallly wanted to put in the "JUSTICE MATTERS" line because that scene made me scream, but it didn't fit with "OMG IT'S THE COMEDIAN" That Rorschach was being right then. Well, hope you enjoyed, the next one's a tad angsty and I'm going to go eat. I'M HUNGRY.


	17. Chapter 17

Author's Notes: HEY! Updated super fast because technically, this one was supposed to come first! Okay, so this one I've gotten inspiration from Misya's story on Who Watches the Writers. It's a little different though. The outcome's nowhere near as exciting. Haha.

Warnings: Um. None, I think.

17. April Showers

He was filthy. Absolutely friggin' _disgusting_. And he _reeked_ like nobody's business and the worst thing was that he didn't even _care_. That was what bothered Dan more than anything about this. He just didn't give a crap that he was covered in… well, crap. And it was his idea to go trouncing around in the sewers after the latest half-crazed villain who seemed to have the same idea about hygiene as his partner.

They had responded to a call about a costumed villain who called himself The Moleman. Really, it was Dan's idea to answer the call as there had been a dramatic decrease in costumed villains lately and he was beginning to feel the "Real Life Villains", as he liked to call them, were starting to get to the both of them. Rorschach especially. He'd taken up the habit of assigning himself cases and not telling Daniel about them. It was actually a little insulting, as if the other man doubted Dan's abilities or thought he would get in the way or something. And it's not like Rorschach came out the better after those cases. Even after the ones he "won", it would take him longer and longer to go back to normal and start caring about things again.

So Dan urged him to take this Moleman case with him, guilting him a little bit by reminding him that it had actually been a while since they'd worked together on a case and it would be like old times. It relieved Dan more than it probably should have that Rorschach agreed, but it seemed like Rorschach's way of saying that he still considered Daniel a partner, even if he couldn't talk about what happened on those cases he never told Dan about. But then again, maybe he was reading too much into it.

But, regardless of the reasons, they responded to the case. It seemed pretty simple and straightforward. The Moleman was breaking into jewelry shops and banks and then disappearing without a trace. Turns out, he disappeared by crawling down the _sewers_ with his loot. Obvious, really, especially considering his name. And of course, once Rorschach gave chase, he wasn't too inclined to stop. So, totally ignoring Dan's suggestion to even get out the hoverbikes, Rorschach jumped down the manhole into the goddamned sewer without a second thought. Dan didn't mind getting his hands dirty, but it would be so much more efficient to get down the hoverbikes. It worked before, dammit, and it wouldn't even put them that behind in the chase. But _no._ So Dan was left speeding down the dingy, dripping tunnels trying to catch up with his partner and the deranged idiot who thought it would be a good idea to hide in sewers. Finally, Dan caught up with his partner who was wrestling with The Moleman knee-deep in the mucky sewer water. Typical. After they restrained him and hauled him up to the police, Daniel was ready to call it a night. Rorschach took some convincing, deciding to ignore the fact that they'd been beating up people since the sun went down and this Moleman certainly filled the weird quota for the day. He was finally reeled in by the promise of hot chocolate and more guilting (Dan wasn't sure how long putting the guilt trip on Rorschach would last, but he wasn't about to question it).

One smelly Owlship ride later, they were both clambering stiffly out of Archie's hull into Dan's basement. Rorschach was obviously sore from whatever the hell he'd been doing this past week and obviously trying not to show it and for some reason, that irritated Daniel more than it should have.

"C'mon buddy," he sighed, ushering Rorschach up the stairs, "I'll go put on the hot water and you can go take a shower or--"

"No need."

Daniel looked at him, eyebrows meeting his hairline, "Um… not to be ridiculously rude, but yes. There is need. Very much need."

Rorschach looked at him, ink spinning dully across his face, "Don't think that's correct grammar Daniel."

"I don't think that matters right now Rorschach!" Dan looked at him, appalled, "Look, you stink. Sorry, it's true. But not only that, it doesn't look like you've been taking care of yourself at all these past couple weeks and they way you've been acting lately is weirding me out!"

Rorschach had the gall to shrug then and it hit Dan that he really _did not care_ if he was disgusting or if he was pushing his body past its limits or if he hurt himself, or what Daniel thought of him anymore. An irrational surge of panic ripped through him as Rorschach moved to sidestep Dan and make his way back to the basement.

"Are obviously tired Daniel," he was saying, "Going now. See you in a week or so. Have something to—_hurk!"_

In the span of seconds it took Rorschach to say those few sentences, Daniel had decided two things: that his partner was becoming something dead and automated and he didn't like it. And that apparently, life was overrated. He leapt at Rorschach while his back was still turned to him and grabbed him by his waist. With some difficulty as Rorschach was now squirming about wildly, he lifted the other man off his feet and started to drag him in the general direction of the guest bathroom.

Really, Rorschach should have been able to fight him off; one good head butt to the nose and Dan would have been helpless. But Daniel suspected he was far too gobsmacked by Dan's own nerve to do much more than writhe in his grasp and Daniel was far too angry (however irrationally) to be stopped without more of a fight.

If he had had to drag Rorschach all the way up the stairs, Daniel wouldn't have stood a chance. Fortunately, the guest bathroom was conveniently located downstairs at the end of the hall so Dan didn't have that far to go. Rorschach, guessing Daniel's intentions, kicked and writhed harder, making furious non-noises as if he was so livid words escaped him. When Dan kicked in the door to the bathroom, Rorschach found his voice.

"Put me _down _Daniel!" He roared, enraged.

"_Fine_!" Dan roared back, dropping him in the middle of the shower and turning on the water. Rorschach barely caught himself from cracking his head against the tile, but had no time to escape the water that came gushing out of the showerhead, freezing cold.

"RAARL." He snarled and slipped all over the tile floor, trying to push past Daniel, who finally lifted him up by the collar and shook him violently.

"You _will_ start caring again dammit!" Dan hollered, leaning in close to Rorschach's face, "I don't know what the _hell_ is up with you, but it's creeping me the hell out and. It. Stops. Now!" He shook his now-frozen partner sharply to emphasize his words. The latex was clinging to Rorschach's skin and he could see a little dark space where his mouth hung open slightly in surprise and it was such a welcome change from angry indifference that all his own anger seeped out of him. He released his drenched partner and sighed, pushing back the curls that fell in his eyes, "I'll-I'll leave some clothes for you by the door, okay?" Rorschach nodded dumbly and Daniel left him there, the only sounds as he closed the door were the falling water and the wet slap of clothes on tile.

Anger and sense of purpose now gone, Daniel put the hot water on, pulled some clothes out for Rorschach and slumped into the chair, hands over his eyes. Where the hell had _that_ come from? Not only had he gone completely _crazy_ on his partner, who would probably never forgive him for that, but he'd also yelled at him, infringed on his carefully cultivated personal space and assumed way too much about their relationship as _friends_, the consequences of which could be the end of their partnership. Rubbing his eyes tiredly, he sighed again. He regretted overreacting like that. It was so out of character for him and went against his nature. However, he didn't regret what he'd said, it was the truth, Rorschach wasn't acting right. True, Rorschach wasn't really all right in the first place. Something had happened to him long before Daniel ever knew him that left him missing pieces. But that didn't mean Daniel couldn't try to keep the pieces that still were there together.

Ten minutes passed before Daniel noticed that the shower had gone off. About two more minutes passed before he heard the sound of feet padding down the hallway to the kitchen where he sat. Daniel looked up to see Rorschach standing in the entryway wearing Dan's blue jeans rolled up several times and an old Harvard sweatshirt that looked like it was going to slip off his shoulders, his latex mask wet and sticking to the lines of his face. It would have been horrible funny if Dan weren't so worried and embarrassed. They stared at each other awkwardly for a few minutes before Rorschach cleared his throat.

"Left wet clothes in hamper by the sink. Didn't know where your laundry room was."

Dan blinked in surprise. Was that it? Rorschach didn't seem to be seething with rage anymore. If anything he seemed a little quiet. And apologizing about leaving his clothes in the hamper instead of taking them to the laundry room? Maybe Dan shook him too hard and he had a concussion. Maybe there really _is_ fluoride in the water. Because quite honestly, if Daniel was expecting anything, it was to be punched in the face by a sopping wet Rorschach who hadn't changed at all as opposed to one who had _put his clothes in a hamper _and wasn't killing him.

"Uh…" Dan cleared his throat, "That-that's okay. I'll get them, it's no problem." He rose from his seat quietly and walked to the bathroom.

"Daniel." Uh oh. Here it comes. Dan winced and turned around slowly.

"Y-yeah?"

"Could you get socks?" Rorschach sounded distantly sheepish and as one, both he and Dan looked down at long, pale toes peeking out from under rolled denim. Daniel's mouth opened and shut a few times before he could speak.

"Y-yeah! Yeah, sure. Sorry, I thought I left some. I guess I didn't think-or wasn't… um. Yeah. Hold on a sec." Dan caught himself from babbling too long and made his way down the hall, "The- um… the water's done. If-if you still wanted to stay."

"You have my clothes, Daniel." Dan must've been imagining the dry amusement in his voice, "Don't really have much of a choice."

Right. Dan flushed in embarrassment as he threw the clothes in the washer. He'd gotten Rorschach to get out of his trench coat in the Owlship so everything that had gotten wet could be washed and dried. The pinstriped suit should probably have been dry cleaned, but he doubted that Rorschach cared or would agree to have them dry cleaned. When he got back into the kitchen, he was certain he was going to get hell for what he'd done. He'd broken all of Rorschach's rules and _nobody_ acted that way to Rorschach and didn't get something broken. But when he turned into the entryway, socks in hand, he found Rorschach sitting at the table, staring into a cup of hot chocolate as if it held the secrets of the universe. But that wasn't what baffled him the most. What made Dan do a double take and question his sanity was that there was _another_ steaming cup opposite of Rorschach near the chair Daniel usually filled.

Dan wasn't really sure what was going on, and he didn't trust himself to speak without making things worse, so he mutely handed Rorschach the socks and sat in the chair. Maybe Rorschach had gotten the hang of this guilt thing. Seemed oddly manipulative for Rorschach, but it was working. Daniel and his incomprehensible partner sat in awkward silence for a few more minutes before Dan couldn't stand it anymore.

"I'm sorry!" he burst out, looking nervously at Rorschach, "I really am, man. I shouldn't have done what I did. It was rude and stupid of me and…" he trailed off, feeling there was much, much more to be said, but he wasn't really sure how exactly to say it. Finally, Rorschach stirred from his silent thoughts.

"Don't really understand, Daniel," His voice was honestly, genuinely confused, "Say I don't care anymore. I do. If you think I've been deficient in my efficiency as a crimefighter, I'm willing-"

"It's not the crime fighting," Dan interrupted, "I-I know you care about _that_ Rorschach. Christ, a guy'd have to be blind to think otherwise. It's the other things."

Rorschach tilted his head quizzically and it made Daniel more upset than before because _he really doesn't know,_ "Like-like I know you aren't eating very much anymore. Or very well. I also happen to know that you barely sleep, either. I know this because when I wake up in the morning and look at the paper, I see cases busted last night that I don't recall busting with you. Either that means there's something terribly wrong with my memory, or that you keep patrolling after we call it a night." He glared at his partner, who sat silently confirming every word, "It isn't really about you smelling like crap this one night. It's the fact that you used to bathe. At least every so once in a while or… something. I mean, be honest with me, man. Do you _really_ believe in this whole fluoride in the water bullshit?"

"A valid theory," Rorschach spoke up defensively, then leaned back in his chair, "Are correct about other assumptions. Underestimated your own observational skills. Apologies. Things don't matter as much in the face of justice. Of saving the innocent from the filthy clutches of criminals." He straightened suddenly, "I don't see it as a bad thing. Personal health shouldn't take precedence over--"

"If you can't take care of yourself, how the hell are you going to take care of other people?" Dan snapped, worry overriding all else.

Rorschach glared at him, "Take care of myself fine. Eat and sleep just enough to keep focused--"

"Which completely explains why I was able to _lift you off the ground_." Dan interrupted again, glaring back.

"Caught me off guard," Rorschach barked, "Wasn't exactly expecting to be ambushed by my own partner."

Dan refused to be guilted now, "Right. So aside from the fact that it's kind of gross, you realize that if you don't bathe and you get an open wound, you could get it infected with _all kinds_ of diseases and die? Would you like that? The great Terror of the Underworld being taken down by a scratch? Sounds good to me."

"I bathe when I need to Daniel, it's not your concern." Rorschach growled, matching Dan's acidity with his own quiet fury.

Dan threw up his hands in exasperation, "God, Rorschach! Don't you get it? It _is _my concern. That's what partners do! It's what friends do! It's like when you bitched at me for a week and a half after I broke my arm thanks to the stupid exoskeleton. _That_ wasn't any of your concern."

"Different," Rorschach gritted out as though he was losing his patience, "You _broke your arm_. Physical harm _is_ my concern. Smell isn't. Not going to tell you how to brush your teeth. Therefore--"

"Therefore nothing." Dan leaned forward, beyond irritated, "I'm not talking about the _smell._ You always smell weird. I don't even notice it anymore. It's the fact that you've given up on the human things in favor of running around wearing an ideal!"

"Poetic Daniel." Rorschach quipped, gripping the edge of the table.

"Shut up." Dan snapped, "You're not a robot, Rorschach. You're not a machine, you're not _just_ an ideal either. You're a person too. Deal with it."

"Am not going to indulge in trivialities to make you feel better."

"_Indulge in_--_"_ Daniel slammed his fist on the table in frustration, "So lemme ask you something. If I decided one day that I don't need to eat, you'd be okay with it?"

"I eat," Rorschach cut in sullenly.

"Which explains why you're swimming in my clothes."

"You're bigger than me Daniel!" Rorschach stood up jerkily and glared down at him, all patience lost, "Am not particularly sure what you want from me. I bathe when I can, water's not always cleanest or _working_ where I live. I eat when I can, what's available to me. None of this is your concern or your business and I will not compromise by folding to your misplaced concerns about _me_ when those concerns are better placed with those who need our help on patrols." He turned away and scrubbed the top of his head in frustration, his hat lying on the table. He sighed, then turned to face his friend, "Need you on my side, Daniel."

It was Daniel's turn to stand up then, brow furrowed in concern, "I _am_ on your side Rorschach. Goddammit, why else would I be yelling about your health and manhandling you into my shower?" Dan's poor attempt at a joke earned a quiet snort from his masked friend, "But listen to me Rorschach. Really, just… listen. Friendships and partnerships depend on a few things: trust, loyalty, and understanding. The first two we've got in the bag, thanks to the line of work we do. But lately, I don't understand you as well as I did. I never understood you much anyways, but it was enough. I'm just trying to make sure you don't drift out of touch, y'know? Just trying to keep my friend."

Rorschach tilted his head again in that questioning angle and even the black ink looked confused, "Still your friend Daniel."

Daniel took a step around the table so they could be face to face, "Then _talk _to me every once and a while when something's bothering you. Sleep over on my couch when you're too tired to go home, I won't mind. And quit taking cases without me. I won't hold you up too bad--"

"My taking separate cases isn't reflective of your skills as a crime fighter." Rorschach interjected, stiff demeanor returning.

"Then why?" Daniel looked confused.

"Daniel," the way he said his name was as close to exasperated affection as Rorschach could ever get, "You are a good man. Are also incredibly naïve in your illusions of the world. Think man is inherently good and that we are just restraining the anomalies. It's a rare trait Daniel. Whereas I-" he turned to Daniel again, looking tall and intimidating despite the too big clothes and still damp mask, "I have no more illusions to break."

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Author's note: Wow, where the hell did that come from?? *glares at Dan and Ror* Seriously, that was supposed to be a funny chapter. There are only limited numbers of happy chapters left guys! There'll be plenty of time to angst later! Dang… and with a cop-out ending and everything?? God. Let me know if you found that last bit utterly confusing and I'll try to explain it.

Oh yeah, and whoever wrote the nameless review that said "Think I will draw for this", I would _love love love _to see when you do and I erupted into fits of happy when you said you would. So thank you!


	18. Chapter 18

Author's notes: Wow, I wrote this like four months ago, so it's really weird to be at the point where I'm posting it now. It's a little shorter and Laurie's baaack!!! With a side order of creepy!Jon so yeah. Yaaay!

Warnings: Tactless!Laurie, Exasperated!Dan, and Childish!Rorschach. And creepy!boring!Jon. Because if there's any character I dislike more than Laurie, it's Jon. At least Laurie's fun to write.

Yeah, yeah. You know the score.

35. Morality

Dan had been working with Rorschach for a while now. Long enough to be able to read his body language and know he's pissed _before _things started breaking. Long enough to know that when he said "ennk" (for example), it usually meant he felt awkward unless he was in Archie when it generally meant he felt nervous—he'd never trusted flying machined. To conclude, Dan had known Rorschach long enough to trust him with his life, his name, and his home and was able to read a lot in Rorschach's subtle body language and could essentially speak the language of Rorschach.

But that didn't mean that Rorschach didn't surprise him every once in a while. And this was one of those times.

Even though the Crimebusters had never really taken off, they all still met up from time to time. Not all of them had partners as Dan had, and he supposed it must get lonely for the rest of them. On this particular meeting, Dan and Rorschach arrived a bit earlier than the rest of them (not everyone had an owlship, Dan thought smugly). All of them with the exception of Dr. Manhattan and the Silk Specter. Jon and Laurie. Great. Dr. Manhattan, the great blue god on earth, always intimidated Dan and Rorschach and Laurie always got into it; Laurie being so hot tempered and Rorschach being…well, _him_.

Dan sighed and put on his most polite smile while Rorschach just let out an exasperated "Hurm." Dan smiled, _you and me both, buddy._

Laurie was the first to greet them. Well, the first to greet _Dan_ at least, "Hey Dan," She smiled and stood up from where she and Jon were sitting to shake his hand. Rorschach growled quietly behind him and Dan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Oh _good_, now Rorschach won't touch either of Dan's hands for about three days, just to make a point.

Ass.

Laurie, as usual, pointedly ignored Rorschach while simultaneously trying to shoot him dirty looks. Interesting. And not really out of the ordinary. To be honest, though, Dan didn't really know what Laurie hoped to accomplish by ignoring Rorschach. The less interaction Rorschach had with Laurie, the happier he'd be. As happy as someone like Rorschach could be anyway.

Jon stepped forward and Dan had to smother a little tremble of anxiety, a knee jerk reaction that Dan really resented, and extended his hand politely. Jon smiled faintly, "How are you this evening, Daniel?"

Dan shivered a little, not liking the fact that Jon knew the answer before he did, "I'm fine Jon. You?" He probably knew that Dan was going to ask that too. He probably knew every question Dan was ever going to ask him for the rest of his life.

Jon, as usual, gave no indication that he was expecting the question. He just nodded, "I am well. And…you, Rorschach?" Dan felt an irrational pang of nervousness and he wasn't sure where it came from. Maybe he was nervous that Dr. Manhattan would say something totally harmless that would offend Rorschach, or if Rorschach would do something stupid to offend Dr. Manhattan. The equal possibility of both absolutely terrified Dan.

Rorschach, much to Dan's relief, said nothing at all. He just fixed Manhattan with the coldest glare his mask could muster. Then, in an act Dan saw as distantly childish, Rorschach turned on his heel and sunk deeper into whatever shadows the small room had to offer, crossing his arms stiffly across his chest.

Laurie scowled, "What's up with him?" Dan felt color rising to his cheeks. He didn't like it when Rorschach acted so rude. He wanted to apologize for him and explain that he wasn't _always_ like this, that sometimes he can be at least vaguely pleasant to be around. But he didn't think Rorschach would appreciate that, so he settled for an awkward shrug and an equally awkward, "Nothing."

Laurie rolled her eyes, "Well, you know what I think it is, is jealousy," she continued, not bothering to lower her voice (in a lot of ways, tact was as much lost on Laurie as it was on Rorschach), "Y'know, professional jealousy. Jon can fight better, he's invincible, he has _friends,_" Ouch. Low blow. "He can essentially do whatever he wants. Who _wouldn't_ be a little jealous?"

Dan opened his mouth, a little peeved, to say that Rorschach _could_ do whatever he wants and _does_ so on a regular basis and that he does _too_ have friends, what does she think Daniel is? He wanted to say a lot of things, but before he could even take a breath, Rorschach let out one of the deepest, scariest "angry" growls, a feral rumble in the back of his throat, and stomped out the door. Dan rubbed his eyes in exasperation, "Ah, great." Not bothering to register Laurie's suddenly contrite expression or Jon's thoughtful stare, he rushed out the door after his angry friend. When he got outside and squinted through the dark, however, Rorschach was not there. Dan cursed under his breath and trudged back inside.

The meeting felt impossibly long to Daniel, who was more than a little worked up about his partner. When Ozymandias (who talked _way_ too much this time) finally called the meeting to a close, Dan all but burst from his seat and strode purposefully (hurriedly) towards his ship. When he opened the hatch, he was surprised to find Rorschach sitting cross-legged on the floor of Archie building, of all things, a little pyramid out of the sugar cubes that now lived in the front console. Feeling more than a little confused and relieved, he cleared this throat awkwardly, "Uhh. Hey." Rorschach grunted, absently crushing one of the little white cubes between his thumb and forefinger, causing white granules to snow down on the little pyramid. Dan sighed, "Look, man, I'm sorry about what Laurie said. You really aren't--"

"Daniel." His name came out almost amused, "Do you think I care about the opinion of a little painted whore?" Dan _should _reprimand Rorschach for his opinion on a fellow vigilante and on women in general. It _should_ bother him, maybe even offend him a little. Instead, he asked, "Well then what got you so worked up? I don't understand." The last words came out a little despairingly the silent _what else is new? _hung in the air between them.

Rorschach was silent, his fingers snowing down the white granules on an equally white building at his feet. Dan had just about given up expecting an answer when Rorschach spoke up, "Daniel, we do this, assuming a different persona, meting out justice and retribution for sins because it is our job, what we must to. We are compelled to do this thing because _it is the right thing to do_." Daniel nodded, not really sure if that were a question or a statement, but hoping Rorschach would take his cue to continue. Rorschach did continue, staring down at the stack of cubes, not meeting Daniel's eyes, "But we can't do it all. Do what we can, but we can't do everything that needs to be done. There are some limits we can't push through. Only human. A weak form. I…have a hard time with this." Dan was afraid to move. He stood there, scared that one wrong move or one stupid comment would shut Rorschach up and interrupt what was _such_ an important admittance coming from his uncompromising partner.

"But," suddenly Rorschach's voice dropped an octave, its gravel-like quality increasing, "Manhattan can do whatever he wants. Can be anywhere. Do anything. No limitations. Could solve world's problems—doesn't. Chooses indifference over doing the right thing. Over morality. _Not right._" At the end of the longest and most revealing speech Dan had ever heard him make, Rorschach stood up and kicked over his sugar cube pyramid with a nudge of his toe. His shoulders were tense.

The was a special night for a few reasons. The first was the Rorschach had revealed more to Dan in this one night outright than probably their whole year of partnership. The second was that, miracle of miracles, Daniel _for once_ knew exactly what to say. He walked over to his angry friend and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Rorschach," Dan turned his partner around gently so that they were face to face, "You are a good man." Black ink swirled around the mask that responded to heat. Rorschach tilted his head to meet Daniel's eyes.

"Ennk."

A/N: yay! This is one of my favorite chapters because this bothered me when I thought of it. I just feel like dang, this guy could do _all kinds_ of things at like the wave of his hand and he doesn't. Now, I know that, yeah, he doesn't do it because he already knows he's not gonna do it so why try, but I always thought it would bother Rorschach a little bit, especially because I don't think he believes in predestination. Thus, this chapter.


	19. Chapter 19

Author's Notes: Wow guys. We are at the (well… maybe) end of the happy stuff. Now, I have one other chapter planned to be short and kinda silly before all of the lead-in to the SAD. But I need to know if you guys think that it's kinda time to go, if you will. I may take it out because I've already gotten the feeling that the story needs to change as a better lead-in to the Roche fiasco but it's mostly up to you guys. If you think that the story needs to start transitioning (or you're getting sick of random fluffy crap) let me know and I'll make a decision from there. Thank you!

No Warning Really

19. Taking Flight

"Hey Rorschach," Dan looked up from the console, grinning almost playfully under the goggles and cowl, "I've been thinking about some things. I think you ought to learn how to fly Archie."

Rorschach raised an eyebrow, the action lost under shifting latex, "Must be joking."

Dan laughed, "No, I'm not! Think about it, what's gonna happen is one night I'm put out of commission for some reason or another and we need to haul ass outta there and you have no idea what to do? Can you see how that would be a problem?"

"Not flying your Owlship Daniel."

Dan's grin widened, "Why? You scared?" Rorschach trained a scornful glare at Dan as if to say, _really? _Dan shrugged, unimpressed, "I mean, I guess I can see why you'd be nervous. You should have told me you were afraid of--_oof_!" A purple-gloved hand jerked him out of his chair onto his feet and swiftly socked him in the arm. Rorschach let out a dissatisfied "Hrn" as he scooted the chair forward to bring the console to his reach.

"Ow!" Dan glared at him, feeling two parts amused, one part annoyed, "You sucker punched me!"

Rorschach turned sharply in the seat, mask scowling, "Going to teach me how to drive your stupid ship? Or you can keep whining. Your choice."

Dan snickered, amusement winning out, "Yeah, yeah I'm coming. And don't call Archie stupid, I'm sure he doesn't appreciate it."

Rorschach stared at him for a second before slowly turning back to the lighted buttons. He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "sorry." to the console and Daniel had to bite back a grin.

"Okay then," His voice strained with amusement, "Shall we?"

"Nrg." Seeing a nervous Rorschach was a beast rarely found in nature and was highly amusing to observe. But it would be cruel for even Daniel to tease him about it, so he was silent.

"All right. So right now Archie's in hover," his voice adopted a businesslike tone, "you can engage and disengage hover by pressing the yellow button there but- _wait!"_

Not waiting to listen to the rest of Dan's instruction, Rorschach punched the pulsing yellow button, causing Archie to drop into free fall.

"_Augh!_" Had this been any other situation, the amount of confusion and alarm in Rorschach's single non-word exclamation would have been hilarious. And it still was, a little bit, as Daniel lunged out of his seat and punched hard on the yellow button again. The sudden stop knocked Dan to his knees, but Rorschach, who had leapt to his feet sometime during the fall, had toppled over the left armrest to land in an undignified pile somewhere out of sight.

"Ror-Rorschach?" Dan wheezed, fighting for control between relief and hilarity, "You okay?"

He peeked over the side of the chair, not bothering to get off his aching knees just yet. The little vigilante was sprawled out on his back, arms outstretched and one foot caught up in the armrest. His hat had tilted over his eyes so that the brim rested on the tip of his nose, covering his eyes.

"Ennk."

It was the little "ennk" that did it for Daniel. The taller man slumped back to lean against the foot of the copilot's chair and positively howled with laughter. Rorschach clambered stiffly to his feet, white mask almost completely covered with black ink.

"Thank you Daniel, was very educational."

The way he mumbled that out, trying desperately to sound vaguely irritated and indifferent made Dan feel a little bad for laughing at him. Rorschach was surprisingly sensitive for being so insensitive. "Ah, no Rorschach… Come back. Look, it was my fault, I should have been clearer. You're doing fine."

Daniel could feel Rorschach's glare from under the heat-disturbed mask, "No lies Daniel. Don't need your platitude."

Dan sighed tiredly, climbing to his feet and walking over to where his partner sulked, "Man, leave it to you to suck the fun out of everything. I'm not lying to you. Really. I almost crashed into the Hudson my first time driving and I built the thing." Dan was going to say more, but suddenly the world lurched out from underneath him as a pinstriped leg swiftly kicked his feet out from underneath him. He fell with an "_oomph!"_ and stars danced in front of his eyes. He blinked up at his partner's shifting visage which looked oddly smug.

"What'd you do that for, you crazy asshole?" Daniel demanded, confused.

"Balances," came the swift reply. Which in Dan's mental Rorschach-to-English dictionary meant, "that's what you get for laughing at me, you jerk." So Dan wasn't too annoyed.

"Whatever man." He pulled himself into a sitting position and Rorschach, to Dan's surprise, grabbed his arm and pulled him up the rest of the way; a silent non-apology, "Okay, so right now, I'm gonna tell you what everything does and then we're gonna put it to use."

Turns out, once Rorschach got his footing with the whole affair, he was a very fast learner. He remembered where all the controls were and readily repeated the functions back to Daniel when asked. His first real flight went well too. True, he had a tendency to go _way_ too fast and an adult video store's billboard would never be the same again (secretly, Dan thought he did that on purpose), but by the end of the night, Daniel was ready to chalk it up as a success.

When it was time for Dan to drop Rorschach off in some dark alley or another, Rorschach shook his hand, almost shyly, with _both_ his hands, "Thank you Daniel," he mumbled awkwardly, "Was very…" He paused, searching for the right word.

"Fun?" Dan supplied hopefully.

"Educational." Rorschach grunted, pulling away from the handshake.

Daniel grinned, "I had fun too."

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A/N: Yay! Rorschach knows how to drive the ship now!! Kind of. Haha. So yeah, like I said, let me know if you think that THE SAD needs to come now or how you think it's going so I can take that into account when making the ultimate decision. Thank you muchly for your support on this journey that's pretty much halfway over! :O


	20. Chapter 20

Author's note: Well, guys. I wasn't gonna put this in, but I wanted to give the happy!days a bit of a send off since these guys have been so good to me for so long. This is a little short thing, too, so I didn't think it disrupted the flow too much. So yeah, enjoy!

20. Monotony

Dan slumped in his chair, head leaning into his hand, scrunching up the side of this face. His elbow was beginning to fall asleep from being pressed up against the armrest for so long, something Dan felt like doing. Staring blankly out the window, he tapped his booted foot rhythmically and waited for Rorschach to yell at him for being annoying. Usually, annoying Rorschach would be right up there on his "Stupid List" with poking a bear in the eye, but there wasn't a whole lot else available for entertainment. Absentmindedly, Dan wondered when physical pain became acceptable entertainment. He decided to blame Rorschach for that one.

Yawning widely, Daniel glanced over at his partner sitting in his usual seat in his usual manner: quiet and waiting. This was also incredibly boring at the moment and Dan really hated his partner's level of patience when it came to catching criminals. Any other situation and Rorschach had the patience level of a five-year-old kid and the ability to gripe with the best of them, but when it came to fighting crime, Rorschach was actually incredibly patient. It was kind of creepy sometimes.

Like now. The streets were utterly quiet, as if the criminal fraternity had decided to take the night off, just to screw with his head. Daniel sighed, fidgeting in his chair. Rorschach ignored him. Jerk. Dan figured he was trying to make a point; to show Daniel that _real_ costumed heroes didn't squirm around in their seats like a kid on a long car ride. Well, not everyone had Rorschach's creepy ability to sit in the shadows and wait. Some people had to _do _something. Or at least talk. Rorschach was an inherently quiet man in movement and speech, but Dan would have thought he'd have kicked him or _something_ by now. It's not as if he was being especially still. And Dan was still tapping his feet, a little louder this time, which should have at least resulted in a snarky, smart-assed comment from the masked man. But it didn't.

Finally, Daniel gave in, "All right man, call me impatient but I don't think there's anything out there tonight. And to top it off, I'm bored as hell, why don't we go back to the Nest and I can make you food and I'll do some work on Archie. We can try again later."

He waited for the barrage of half-insults and an indignant monologue on the vices of giving up so soon, but none came. Frowning, Dan leaned closer to the smaller man and detected the sound of quiet snoring under the shifting latex. Snickering, Dan decided that living was overrated and pulled the bag of sugar cubes from the console where they lived. In a moment of complete immaturity, he lightly tossed one at Rorschach's profile. It fell on his lap and Dan tensed, waiting for the explosion. Instead of jerking awake and proceeding to punch whatever was closest, Rorschach mumbled indistinctly and shifted slightly in his seat. The poor guy must have been ridiculously tired, Dan decided, because usually it took less than a sugar cube to wake him up. The mature, grown up thing would have been to let his partner sleep, but justifying himself to the fact that if Rorschach caught _him_ sleeping on patrol, he wouldn't be so kind, Dan opted for the more entertaining option of lobbing another sugar cube in his partner's general direction. He overshot and he watched in horror as it sailed through the air and landed on the brim of Rorschach's battered fedora. And, by God above, Rorschach didn't even twitch.

Dan began to make a little game of it, seeing how many times he could land the little cubes on his hat, or on his shoulders without waking him up. He even kept score in his head. A good half an hour and one full bag later, Rorschach woke with a quiet snort. The sugar cubes that had accumulated on the brim of his hat fell onto his lap. Rorschach must have been really sleep addled because instead of turning to Daniel and guilting him about personal space boundaries and being immature, he stared at the little pile of sugar cubes on his lap and then looked up at the ceiling, befuddled.

Dan bit back a laugh and tried to look as innocent as possible, "What's up buddy?" He wasn't all that surprised when Rorschach pelted them all back at him.

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A/N: Wow, that was short. And nuuu! It's the last (intentionally) happy chapter!! DD: Sad days. So yeah, thank you all for your input and support and your reviews are loved on and shared with my friends as bragging rights. Lol. Hope you liked.


	21. Chapter 21

Author's notes: okay, so goddamn Ozymandias decided that in the _one time_ he was gonna be mentioned in my fic (aside from the obvious one) he was gonna be a complete asshole. *glares at him * Seriously, could you be any more annoying?? Grah. Anyways, so this chapter was like pulling teeth and so I hope you enjoy the fruits of my aggravating labor. :/

21. Ozymandias

When Rorschach slapped a copy of _The Gazette_ on his kitchen table, Dan thought he was in for another lecture on the vices of filling his head with liberal trash. He mentally sent up a prayer for patience before staring placidly up at Rorschach, waiting for a gruff tirade. Instead, there was a rather awkward pause where both men just stared at each other expectantly. Finally, Rorschach broke the silence.

"Well, read it." Rorschach snapped, sounding a little punchy. Dan raised an eyebrow and picked up the magazine slowly. The front page read "_Hero Unmasked! Ozymandias' true identity is businessman Adrian Veidt"_. Dan's eyes widened in shock and he stared, blinking, at the text before him. His mouth opened and closed several times before he could figure out how to make words.

"I don't believe it," Dan murmured, taken aback. He looked up over his glasses at his seething partner, "He might've told us, at least."

"He might have seen fit not to abandon the city in favor of shameful decadence," Rorschach corrected, growling and pacing.

Dan's other eyebrow climbed up to rest with the other, "I don't see what you're so upset about, you don't even like him anyway."

Rorschach whirled to face him, "Not the point Daniel. He _quit_. He left the cause. Abandoned the city and his duties, especially since he has the most and best resources. Was an asset," That last bit seemed to pain Rorschach to admit. "Also," he added, staring at Dan intently, "Might encourage the trend. Once one goes, others will follow."

Dan shrugged, stretching a sore shoulder muscle, "Yeah. Maybe. I could see Laurie retiring. She never liked the business much anyways." Dan noticed how Rorschach seemed to relax as Dan spoke and he wondered at that, "Well, I'm just as surprised as you are, but I think it'll be fine. We always got along fine without Ozy. I can only think of maybe one time when _we've_ needed him."

Rorschach stared at him a little longer before nodding. Dan watched, bemused as he almost flopped into the kitchen chair beside him in something resembling relief. "You're acting funny," Dan remarked absently, "What're you thinking?"

"Nothing," Rorschach grumbled, plucking a sugar cube out of the jar and unwrapping it deftly. Dan chuckled, too happy to have Rorschach willingly _sitting still_ and _talking_ to him like old times to press the issue too much.

"We should go talk to him," the idea occurred to Dan suddenly, and it was clear that Rorschach did not approve of that plan. "I'm just curious. You know, why he retired."

"Doesn't matter," Rorschach growled dangerously, "What matters it that he quit."

"Yeah, I know." Dan sighed irritably, "But still. I want to know the reason why _Ozymandias_ would want to give this up."

"And what happens if his reasons are acceptable Daniel?" It was more of a demand than a question, and his voice was low and unidentifiable, "What happens if he tells you why he quit and you find yourself agreeing with his motivations? What then?"

Dan blinked, "Um. They'll have to be damn good reasons. I mean, I'm not going to lie, this whole business isn't getting any easier, but I can't see myself giving it up anytime soon." Rorschach scrutinized him for a moment before settling back in his seat. Dan barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. It was incredibly irritating when Rorschach erupted into one of these moods. You never could say the right things around him when he was like this.

Finally, Rorschach stood up, "Going now. Good patrol, Daniel. Thanks for coffee and sugar cubes."

Dan grinned and waved, "Sure thing buddy. See ya tomorrow night." Rorschach nodded curtly and then disappeared down into Daniel's basement. Dan glanced at his clock; 3:43 in the morning. Christ. He shuffled off to bed, wondering how he was going to explain to whatever receptionist he ran into how he knew Adrian Veidt.

***

Turns out, Adrian had already thought of that for him. Daniel had told Adrian his secret identity years ago, as Adrian told him his. So when he reached the front desk the next day mid-afternoon, the receptionist already knew who he was and admitted him into another room to wait for Adrian there.

Ozymandias—Adrian—had done fairly well for himself, Daniel concluded. His office was large and tastefully decorated in the Egyptian style he emulated and the furniture was plush and sleek. Rorschach wouldn't approve, Dan thought amusedly to himself as he waited for Adrian.

He didn't have to wait for long. Not ten minutes since he sat down did the door across the room open and admit a tall, handsome man into the room. It was unmistakably Ozymandias, with his smooth, somewhat debonair manner and charming smile. The most surreal thing about the matter was seeing him unmasked and out of costume. He still wore a lot of purple, a fact that seemed to pain Rorschach a little bit. Because heaven forbid Rorschach have something in common with _Ozymandias_. But still, seeing him in a silk business suit as opposed to the shining golden suit (that Rorschach informed him one was lame. God alone knew how Rorschach knew that) with the purple cape was rather off-putting. Adrian, on the other hand, looked smoothly unsurprised and welcoming upon seeing Daniel out of costume. Instead, he extended a hand to shake Dan's warmly and firmly and smiled.

"Daniel," he greeted easily, "It's good to see you again. What have you been up to?"

Dan shrugged awkwardly, "Oh. You know. Not a whole lot, I live a quiet life in daytime." His laugh was forced and clumsy, but Adrian chuckled along with him.

"Ah yes. I am now enjoying such luxuries as well. And a little more… frequently now, which is why, I'm assuming, you have come."

"Uh. Yeah." Dan flushed a little, not sure why it was twice as awkward to talk to Adrian Veidt as Daniel Dreiberg than it was to talk to Ozymandias as Nite Owl. They were both the same persons, for God's sakes, "Actually, I was wondering about that… I mean…"

"You want to know why exactly I've decided to hang up my mask, if you will," Adrian finished for him, kindly cutting through Daniel's flustered stammering, "The answer is simple, Dan. It's all about the trends."

Dan frowned, "Trends?" The smile Adrian gave him was uncomfortably condescending.

"Of course. You see, Daniel, everything in American culture revolves in trends. Costumed heroing is no exception. It is popular to the public _now_, but it had its heyday in the fifties and sixties. A fifteen year trend is uncommonly long, and the effect of having such a long trend is a very quick, very sudden decline in popularity." He was staring at Daniel with intensity now, "This means that very, _very_ soon now, the American public will be calling for us all to hang up our masks and to let the familiar, elected law enforcement officers to begin to do their jobs again. It will be sudden, violent and painful and quite frankly, I do not wish to be a part of it. You understand, don't you Daniel?"

Dan was at a loss, "But- you don't know that… I mean… sure, things are getting a little sticky now, but--"

Adrian chuckled almost affectionately, "Daniel, what I have always liked about you is that you honestly believe that you're doing genuine good as Nite Owl. And for the moment, you are. But what will happen when nobody wants your help anymore? It takes a very extreme personality to be a costumed hero, you yourself being the only exception to that rule, being as mild as you are," Adrian smiled to show he was being complementary. Daniel smiled back awkwardly- he'd been called worse than mild anyway. Adrian continued, "The public has only limited amount of patience for such personalities having so much control over their safety. People want stability and people like The Comedian and Rorschach are _not_ stable. Now I know," Adrian raised his voice ever so slightly to cut off whatever Dan was going to interject in Rorschach's defense, "That Rorschach is your partner. But even you must admit that he is far from whole as a person."

"He's not like the Comedian," Dan mumbled, trying not to petulantly look at his feet, "He's better than that."

Adrian inclined his head, indicating he didn't desire to argue the point with Dan. But the little secret smile that curled his mouth showed he thought otherwise. Dan decided not to argue the point either.

"Be that as it may," Adrian continued, "I wanted to break away from the business before it followed my reputation and reflected badly on my business ventures. You understand."

Dan nodded numbly and forced a distracted smile, "Yeah. Yeah, I understand Adrian. Thanks for your time. I think I should be going."

Adrian smiled and nodded, "Of course. Well, I do hope I'll see you sometime in the future Daniel."

Daniel nodded again, trying to make his smile a little more natural. Halfway to the door, he turned, "Hey, Adrian?"

Adrian turned and looked politely curious.

"Do you really think there'll be a time when people aren't going to want us anymore?" Daniel didn't care how childish he sounded; all he knew was with Adrian's intellect, he'd have the best idea as to the future.

Adrian looked sympathetic, as though he understood and empathized with all of Daniel's fears and insecurities, "Yes, Daniel. I do."

Daniel sighed and his mouth twisted into a wry grin, "Well. Thanks again for your time, Adrian. I know you're busy."

Adrian nodded, "But never too busy to visit with old friends," He clarified, "Oh, and Daniel?" He added, looking piercingly at Dan, "I would strongly urge you to take after my example and retire before things become too much. I understand how painful it is when your illusions about your place in the world have been shattered." He looked distant for a moment, grey eyes looking somewhere Dan couldn't see. After only a second, Adrian appeared to come back to himself and he smiled almost wistfully, "But you won't, will you? You won't give up on your city. Or your partner."

"He's my friend," Dan burst out, suddenly needing to justify Rorschach's current violent streak, "He's the only one I've got. And I'm the only friend he's got."

"You can't fix him, Dan," Adrian looked sad and paternal as he stared down at Daniel, "You can't fix him any more than you can fix the city. You know that."

Dan shrugged, "Maybe. But I can't just leave him either. What kind of friend would I be then?" He smiled genuinely this time, comforted by the sense of purpose, "I really do have to get going, Adrian. I've got a late night ahead of me, you know."

Adrian laughed then, a warm chuckle that didn't reach sad and distant eyes, "I do know. Good luck Daniel. I hope you, most of all, have a happy resolution out of this."

"Thanks Adrian," Daniel waved at the door, "I'm pretty sure I will."

***

"So how did your talk with Ozymandias go?" Rorschach gritted out, obviously trying to be pleasant tonight for some unfathomable reason. But Dan wasn't bothered by it, he'd stopped trying to figure Rorschach out a long time ago.

Dan shrugged, "I dunno. He's pretty much the same as he's always been, constantly thinking he knows something we don't. You know."

Rorschach grunted a little, shifting in his seat. Dan smiled, guessing at his thoughts.

"And no," Dan chuckled, "He didn't encourage me to join him in the Quitting League of Quitters. Don't worry, my integrity is safe."

Rorschach huffed, obviously not appreciating the sarcasm, but he quit fidgeting and the rest of the night went uncharacteristically pleasant.

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A/N: Yaaay! Actually, this turned out pretty happy. *glares at Dan and Rorschach * what the heck guys? I thought we were getting sad. Sigh. Whatever. It at least had a sort of foreboding air to it, right? :/ Well, yeah. Stay tuned for sad. FOR REAL THIS TIME. I've already written it. :3 Thanks for your support, as always! Oh, and bonus points if you can pick out the poorly concealed Dr. Horrible refrence. I... have no life :D


	22. Chapter 22

Author's notes: Hey guys. Well, sad times are sad and this chapter is no exception, seeing as we are now getting a look at the breakdown of Rorschach's little psyche. And we all know where that leads. But despite that, I really liked this chapter because it gave me a little bit of opportunity to look into Rorschach's motives and stubborn-ness. Hope you think I did him "justice" hur hur wow that was bad…

Warnings: there's more swearing in this chapter. And Rorschach being a super dick. Which… isn't really all that new, if we're looking GN here. :P

22. Lost

This was going to be a bad night. Daniel knew it without really knowing it; trying to chalk up the feeling of dread and distant irritation as perhaps side effects of the beating they received the night before that hadn't really healed yet. But it wasn't that. It was that Rorschach was late. That was what really clued him in. Rorschach was never late, but he sometimes decided not to show up and never told Daniel in advance. Which was annoying, yes, but Rorschach had done much more irritating things, that wasn't the point. The point was it had been two weeks since they last worked together. Two weeks, and the only news Dan had that Rorschach was even still alive was the articles in the newspaper, which were starting to get less and less complimentary. He pulled on his cowl agitatedly, trying not to look at the front page of this morning's paper with the words "Vigilante Criticizes NYPD" glaring accusingly at Dan from his workbench. That was worrying. Rorschach was never really impressed with the men in blue, but dammit, he always knew to keep his stupid little mouth shut on the _street_. And besides, Dan frowned, crumpling the newsprint with a covered fist, Hollis was a cop and his mentor. Rorschach admired and respected Hollis, what the hell was that all about?

That was mostly why Daniel wanted Rorschach to actually _show up_ in Dan's basement that night. Because they weren't exactly top of the public's popularity list anyway, but what with Rorschach running his mouth like an _idiot_ and the investigations on the Comedian and whatever the hell happened in Vietnam. Those would blow over, he knew. The Comedian had clout, friends in high places, but that wouldn't help mend over public opinion and make Nite Owl's job a little harder.

Growling quietly, Nite Owl launched his ship and shot out of the tunnel, lips pressed thin and eyes unusually grim behind dark goggles. This was his job, it was important, people would see that all he wanted to do was help them, they had to. He would show them, and maybe then things could go back to the way they were. Feeling upset and pessimistic, Nite Owl set the ship on hover and dropped to the roof of a building. Cowl fluttering in the breeze behind him, he stared out at the dusky New York skyline, lit up by the thousands and thousands of lives being lived under his feet. Breathing in the night air deeply, Daniel collected himself; things would be okay, they would work out. He supposed he could get Ozymandias to do some PR work—

But no.

Adrian had left. He had hung up his mask a few months prior, content to step fully into the role of businessman and millionaire, a normal person. Or, Daniel amended, as normal as the world's smartest man could be. At least he wasn't being called a pervert or a deviant just for trying to _help_ people. Dan ripped off his goggles and pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation; he _had _to stop thinking like that. Thankfully, some commotion interrupted Daniel's increasingly depressing train of thought. Snapping on his goggles, he peered over the roof to see a mother and two young children being backed into a corner by a group of teenagers. Christ, they were just kids themselves.

Jumping off the roof, Nite Owl dropped rather impressively among them and didn't give them any time to recover from the shock of a six-foot owl descending upon them. Eyes and goggles flashing, he launched himself in the middle of them, fists swinging. It should trouble him that he found fighting so cathartic, but it wasn't about the violence. It was about the clarity he felt when he was defending others. In those moments, dodging crowbars and fists, seeing them drop from the fray one by one, that he knew exactly who he was, what he was, and what the world could be. He was the crusader of justice, and there was no second-guessing, nor was there any room for awkward, bumbling Daniel Dreiberg. There was just Nite Owl and justice. And damn if it didn't feel good.

Somewhere in the time of the fight, Rorschach showed up at his back. Nite Owl hadn't noticed him come in, but when he saw the familiar coat and shifting visage, he smiled. Here, he understood his partner with a little more clarity too.

It was the moments in between where they were getting lost.

When the last man fell, Nite Owl set about tying them together and to lampposts. Rorschach didn't join him, opting instead to see to the would-be victims. Which was surprising, Rorschach wasn't exactly the comforting type, but he was always weird when there were kids involved so—

There was a terrified, wordless shriek and Nite Owl whirled around (_there couldn't be more of them, we got them all_) to see the mother being hoisted off her feet by her collar by Rorschach. Her two children, a tow-headed boy and little girl with curls, clung to each other, tearful eyes wide and silent.

"Children look to be five and seven," Rorschach growled, sounding more like an animal than a person, "Almost midnight in less than reputable neighborhood. Endangering your children. Very bad."

_Oh shit._ The mother sobbed, too frightened to remember how to form words and Daniel sprinted over and grabbed Rorschach's shoulder.

"Shit, Rorschach, let her go! What the hell are you doing?" Daniel demanded, trying to sound disapproving and authoritative, but his words sounded breathless and frightened to his own ears.

Rorschach let out a growl, "No. Leading her children around in slums in the middle of the night. Should be asleep. What were your plans with them here?" He leaned towards the woman threateningly as she tried to find her voice.

"N-no! No, I--" Another sob shook her and Daniel couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed the hand holding the woman's throat and jerked it away. Fuming and scared, he pushed Rorschach roughly away from her.

"Rorschach, _stop it_. You're scaring the kids." Dan watched as Rorschach paused, and looked down at the little children, staring up at him with horrified dread, clinging to each other and their mother. He made a little non-noise Dan couldn't translate and melted back into the shadow, out of sight.

Letting out a shuddering sigh, he turned to the terrified family, "Are you okay? I am so sorr--" He took a step towards them, extending a hand, but the woman stumbled shakily to her feet, pushing her children behind her.

"G-go away!" Her voice was shrill and panicked. Dan was horrified.

"No, no! I-I just want to help--" But she had already scooped up her children and ran out of the alley into the night.

He watched her run and stood there after, motionless and trying to process what had happened. He clambered up the fire escape after a few minutes of shock, shaking and confused, the woman's terrified face haunting behind his eyes. Upon reaching the roof, he fumbled for the remote when something caught his eye two rooftops over.

Rorschach.

Fury rising in his throat, he leapt over the divide and sprinted across the rooftop, concrete pounding through his boots. He threw himself over the second divide and onto his partner, who saw him before he jumped, but realized too late he wasn't trying to land _next _to him. Landing hard, Daniel's larger body slammed into Rorschach's smaller, leaner one and they crashed to the ground. Rorschach's fist shot out and caught Dan in the chest hard just below the collarbone. Daniel, having the physical and tactical advantage at the moment, managed to flip Rorschach's writhing body over so that he was on his stomach. Pulling up, Daniel grabbed his arms and wrenched them back, driving a knee into the other man's bony back. Rorschach kicked out viciously, catching Dan in the knees and thighs, but anger drove Dan on and he shook Rorschach's shoulders violently.

"What the hell is _wrong_ with you, you stupid bastard?" Daniel roared, pulling Rorschach's arms back tighter as he tried to escape. At this point, Dan didn't care if Rorschach killed him, so long as Daniel got to say his piece before he was ripped limb from limb. "You stupid goddamn _bastard_, who says you get to terrorize _victims_?"

"Situation was suspicious." Rorschach ground out, sounding a bit breathless, as though Dan had knocked the wind out of him, "Towing around small children in the middle of the night in a part of town _known_ for its red light district--"

"If you feel the situation is suspicious, then we investigate it. Rationally." Dan snapped, "You don't know everything! For all you know, she was lost, or new to the city or running away from someone, we've seen that before—_oof!_" Rorschach had gained purchase on the concrete and flung himself back with as much force as he could muster. His head smashed into Daniel's forehead and (_damn, he's flexible_) caught be surprise, Dan released his hold on Rorschach and fell backwards. Rorschach shot to his feet and looked down at Daniel. Dan scrambled to his feet and as soon as he was upright, Rorschach punched, lighting fast, and blood erupted from Daniel's nose. Dan doubled over and the smaller man delivered a stunning blow to the ear leaving his head ringing. A swift kick knocked him off his feet and his vision swam. He felt a hand grip the front of his costume and wrench him upwards. Soon, he was face to face with furiously swirling inkblots and distantly he wondered if he was about to die and whether or not he deserved this. Probably.

"Not everyone's intentions are honorable, Daniel," Rorschach growled, dropping Daniel who landed hard on the roof.

"I know that," Dan snapped irritably, rubbing his backside, "Just because I give the people the benefit of the doubt doesn't mean I'm an idiot."

"You allow your naïveté and your _benefit of the doubt_ to cloud your judgment as a crime fighter," Rorschach shot back, "just because the individual in question was a woman and a mother does not exempt her from responsibility for actions."

"Okay, yes, I agree with that," Dan rubbed his forehead in aggravation, "But _that_ back there, was _not_ the way to investigate this. God, Rorschach, as if people weren't disgusted with us already…"

"Doesn't matter what people think," Rorschach grunted dismissively, "Only thing that matters is justice."

"Well, you know what also matters?" Dan glared at him, "Public opinion. Because if people stop trusting us and wanting our help, then we've lost sight of the point."

"The point," Rorschach snapped, losing his disaffected edge, "Is dispensing justice to those who deserve retribution. Isn't a popularity contest or Ozymandias would still be here."

"Don't be an asshole," Dan retorted, "That's not it and you know it. Ozymandias—_Adrian_—may be flashy, but he knew when he was needed and when he wasn't." Dan pushed back his cowl to scrub a fist through his hair, "Maybe he knew something we didn't."

There was a silence and even the inkblots on Rorschach's mask froze. "So," he snarled, voice quiet and dangerous, "You want to follow Ozymandias, Daniel? Want to sink into the ignorant complacency of inaction and blindness? Want to willingly turn your back on this city and those who need heroes because times are _inconvenient_?" His hands were trembling fists and his entire body was whipcord-taut and about ready to release all the barely restrained fury he was obviously holding in this frame. Dan would have been worried if he wasn't so pissed.

"No, that's _not_ what I want, calm down, you weird jerk," Dan replied, scowling furiously, "I want to help people. I want to do the right thing. But _you_ are making it really hard for people to come to us for help and therefore, making our job harder. Part of helping people is that people _want_ to be helped. You're right, times are hard now for masks and we have to be careful about the public opinion. People appoint us, Rorschach. Not in the same sense of policemen and lawyers and firemen and all that, but they ultimately get to decide if they need us."

"People don't know what they need. Isn't about what they want, it's about justice. Justice is what appoints us and we are bound to serve its cause."

Dan let out a frustrated yell and Rorschach tensed, waiting for Daniel to rush at him again. Instead, Dan shook his head suddenly and turned away. "You know what, man?" he sighed, subdued, "I don't wanna argue with you. I- to tell you the truth, I don't want anything to do with you right now, okay? Just—I'm gonna go. See you around."

With that, he fiddled with the console on his belt, summoning Archie to him. Without looking back, he clambered aboard the Owlship and flew off without pause.

And Rorschach was alone.

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A/N: AW, SAD. :( This isn't as fun as the happy stuff, what the hell guys? Sigh. So yeah, now we start to see the breakdown of Dan and Rorschach's friendship and guys, we are almost to "The Case" and it makes me very sad.


	23. Chapter 23

Author's notes: Well, this chapter gave me hell. It was one of those chapters where I had a clear idea what I wanted it to be when I was writing the outline out in, like, _April_ but failed to leave myself a clear note of what I wanted for the future. Because I'm so ultra farsighted. /sarcasm/ Anyways, it was really bad here because all I had for this chapter was its title. Which was… unhelpful. Haha. So here's what came out of it. Enjoy?

23. Weary

Dan wasn't sure when exactly he stopped coming home from patrols with the exuberant feeling that he'd done good in the world that night. It wasn't a sudden burst of clarity and disillusionment that knocked his feet out from under him and left him dizzy and out of breath. Nor did any one person bring it on. Instead, it faded away so quietly and without fanfare that Dan never missed it until it was already gone, leaving him feeling slightly sick and just very, very _tired_. He hated feeling like this. It was like a betrayal, a weakness and the worst thing was he couldn't _talk_ to anyone about it. He was far too ashamed to talk about it with Hollis, whom he felt would see it as an insult to the Nite Owl name and he sure as hell couldn't talk about it with _Rorschach_ who barely understood him anymore. And vice versa.

And patrolling didn't help with combat the feeling of emptiness and despair that struck him in the wee small hours of the morning. In fact, patrols made it worse. Rorschach still partnered with him and on some days even put in a little effort to keep things like they were; because for all his views against nostalgia, Rorschach hated major change as much as Daniel did. But it was clear that the fault lines on Rorschach's psyche were deepening and the pain of whatever left him quietly cracking before Daniel had ever met him was clearly affecting his mind. And Daniel couldn't do a damn thing about it. He couldn't do anything but watch his partner become stranger and stranger just as he couldn't do anything to stop his city from silently hating him. He'd never in his life felt so impotent.

He hadn't believed that it would ever come to this. He was always positive that people, no matter how black it got, would at least understand that he was doing the right thing. Would see that Daniel was doing the best he could and putting himself in harm's way for them and would at least be grateful for it. But they weren't. People laughed and jeered at him now; which wasn't the biggest problem, Daniel had been to public high school, he knew how that felt. The biggest problem was that the city was painting them black, turning their attempts to do good into acts of perversion and villainy, something to be vilified as opposed to something to appreciate. He rarely watched the news anymore because the subject always led up to how costumed vigilantism was dying, and good riddance. Someone would always call, or visit the talk shows and would either be doctors and psychologists that would talk about how they were all sick in the head, or victims who had stories about the brutality of some heroes, like Rorschach or the Comedian. Those were the worst. They never brought up Daniel up in those shows; in fact, no one never even mentioned him except one offhand comment by one psychologist that if they'd only give up their masks, some of them might make it out normal. Dan wondered if that was a compliment or not.

This general mood of disillusionment and dissatisfaction leaked into his daylight persona as well, and it was only a matter of time before Hollis noticed.

"All right, Danny boy, what's going on with you?" Hollis finally asked one night after five minutes of Daniel staring disconsolately into his bottle of beer, "And no funny business either. I may be an old man, but I'm not blind," He added firmly.

Dan flushed, "I'm sorry, Hollis. I- I'm not entirely good company tonight, maybe I should just--" He made a move to stand up and walk out, but Hollis stopped him.

"Not so fast there, son," Hollis said in a no-nonsense, I'm-the-boss tone of voice, "I can tell you want to talk, and that something's bothering you. Talk to me, will ya?"

The words hit Dan hard not so much because someone was _finally_ asking him what was going on, but that those words (though paraphrased) were basically the exact words he'd pleaded to Rorschach just a few weeks ago. God, what was he becoming, anyway?

Daniel sat down, "I'm sorry. Really, I'm just… having a hard time with things right now."

"Fighting crime, you mean?" Hollis asked kindly.

"People hate us now, Hollis!" Dan burst out, finally giving in to the urge to tell him everything, "People hate us and our whole team's going to hell and my own _partner's_ falling apart in time with the city and I can't do a damn thing to stop either one of them and I hate it!" Daniel slammed a fist down on the table in frustration before sagging in the chair, "And I don't know what to do anymore, Hollis. And the worst thing is, is that sometimes," He swallowed hard, not looking at his mentor, "Sometimes I don't want to do this anymore. Sometimes I think things might be easier being just Daniel Dreiberg."

"Well, hell son," Hollis' voice was affectionately sympathetic, "I can sympathize with that." Daniel looked up at him hopefully.

"You can?"

Hollis gave him an exasperated look, "Well, sure Danny. I retired too remember? I can understand when you feel like you've done all you can do. You can't give your whole soul to a city that won't appreciate it. It's not healthy, and nothing good will come of it, take it from me." Daniel watched as his mentor's face grew sad and dark and distant, creased with the cares that Daniel was beginning to understand himself. He sighed.

"What am I gonna do Hollis?" He didn't feel ashamed at how small and upset his voice sounded. It was Hollis, so it was okay.

Hollis sighed and leaned back in his chair, "Well, I know you're not gonna like this answer, Danny boy, but that's up to you. You gotta do what you think is right, no matter what. That's the most important thing, Daniel," Hollis shifted forward in his seat, clearly wanting Daniel to understand him, "You've _always gotta do what's right_. You understand me?"

Daniel nodded, "Yeah. I understand. I guess I wish it was more obvious what the right thing was."

Hollis smiled wryly and clapped Daniel's shoulder, "I know. Trust me, I know. But just remember, you gotta think about what's right for _you_ too. It's not worth it to pour your blood and tears into a lost cause. And I don't just mean the city." Hollis gave Daniel a significant look. Daniel's eyes widened.

"But Hollis--"

"Daniel, I know what's going on with your partner," Hollis' eyes were crinkled with sadness and worry, "I've seen it with masks and I've seen it with cops. There comes to a point where there's nothing more you can do. And you give so much of yourself that between the city and your partner, there's not gonna be anything left."

Daniel sagged in his seat, rubbing his eyes with closed fists. "I'm tired, Hollis." He said simply.

"Then take a rest," Hollis responded kindly, "There's no shame in resting."

"No," Daniel agreed, smiling, "But there is some shame in leaving a friend to hurt by himself. And not finishing a job."

"Danny--"

"No, it's okay, Hollis," Dan interrupted, "When the city decides once and for all it no longer wants us around, I'll go. And Rorschach's not all gone yet, he's hurting and really messed up, but he's not just my partner, he's my friend. And it wouldn't be very heroic to abandon someone who needs help."

"You know there's gonna be a time when he doesn't want your help either," Hollis reminded him carefully.

"Well," Dan said quietly, "I'll think about that when it happens. But until then, I'm gonna try to be there for him, he needs it."

Hollis scrutinized him for a moment, and then leaned back in the chair and chuckled, "You know, you're a better Nite Owl than I ever was."

Daniel stared, a flush creeping up his neck, "That's not true," he stammered, "You were a great Nite Owl. Why would you say that?"

"Because," the look of pride on Hollis' face made Daniel blush harder, "You do what heroes should do: you put yourself at the end of the line. But that can't go on forever, Daniel. It's too much for any one person."

Daniel nodded, "I know. I told you, when things fall apart, I'll do what I have to do. But until then, I have to keep it up. For as long as I'm needed."

Hollis nodded, "Okay Danny. That's all anyone can ask." He chuckled, "Maybe you can get your partner to retire too when the time comes."

Dan looked sad, "I think," he said slowly, "after I retire, he'll never speak to me again."

The admission hurt Daniel more than he cared to admit.

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A/N: AW DAN. :( Sad Dan is sad. So yeah, totally wasn't expecting Hollis to come in, but I figured it was kind of unacceptable to have over twenty chapters and no Hollis. Anyways, I hope this chapter wasn't too choppy-voiced because half of it I wrote with _no idea_ what was going on and the other half I wrote when I had the Worst. Day. Ever. Don't even know. It was miserable, so I tried to transmute my weariness into Dan's little head (sorry, baby) and give you this. Oh yeah, an OMG IMPORTANT chapter is next. D:


	24. Chapter 24

Author's Notes: Gah. This is _so weird_. Okay, this is super-important-big-deal chapter and I really can't believe I'm at this point. It's a short chapter, and I planned to have the next chapter posted on the first for poetic stupidity. Haha. Okay, here we go…

24. Case

Daniel looked across the table strewn with paper, half-drawn plans, scribbled notes and grainy photos at his grim-set partner.

"So what do you want to do? If you really think you've got a break on this little girl's case, we can focus on that, let the drug trafficking bust go for another day." He offered, staring at the smiling photo of a little girl in pigtails Rorschach clutched in his hand. This case screamed bad news and he wanted them to be together on this. Rorschach got weird around cases with children, and lately, he'd just been getting really scary in general. All the same, it galled Dan to let the gang's drug trafficking ring go unpunished when they'd been thumbing their noses at the vigilantes for months.

Rorschach shook his head, "Can't let their actions continue any longer, Daniel. You know that." He was quiet for a while before speaking again, "We may never get the opportunity to apprehend them again for a very long time." He looked up at Daniel, "You take the drug case. They're not skilled fighters, mostly hired hands, most easily frightened. I'll take the girl's case."

"But-" Daniel floundered, trying to think of an objection. Rorschach interrupted him.

"You won't be at too much risk and I don't have a bulletproof Owl suit." The half joke still wrung a smile out of Daniel, still grateful his partner could still grasp onto ideas such as humor. "Besides…" he continued, staring at the table in a moment of uncharacteristic vulnerability, "I promised her father I'd bring her back."

Daniel's heart twisted. He didn't tell his partner that that was a stupid thing to promise (even though it really was) and he didn't express his concerns that the girl may already be dead (even if there was a very good chance she was). Instead, he stood up to get more coffee and clapped Rorschach's shoulder on the way to the coffeepot.

"Okay," Daniel said quietly, "That's okay. I'll be fine on the case. I just think I should go with you. I could get someone else to take the drug thing for me and I could go with you." But even as he said it, he knew he couldn't. The Comedian was overseas, Jon was tied up with the government and he was pretty sure that Laurie, while tough and spirited, didn't have enough experience working by herself to handle something like that alone. Daniel sighed in frustration, "Never mind. Once again, we're the only starship in the area."

"You would like _Star Trek_ Daniel." And Dan had to laugh loudly at the first bit of genuine, dry humor his partner had exhibited in months. He sobered up quickly as Rorschach stood up to face him, "You're a good partner Daniel. A very good friend. I know I've been… difficult lately and it's been hard being my friend. Thank you." It was simply said and without any inflection, but as Rorschach held out a hand for Daniel to shake, it felt too much like a goodbye for Daniel's liking. He grasped Rorschach's hand tightly and pulled the smaller man into a quick hug, releasing him before Rorschach could react violently.

"And I know things have been difficult for you lately," Dan said, voice gentle, "You're a damn good friend too, you know. You're going to be all right, okay? Whatever's… whatever's bothering you, it's going to be okay in the end."

Rorschach stared at him for a moment before turning back to the table and pocketing the little girl's picture, "I'll be back tonight or tomorrow night. I'll bring her back."

Dan felt little tendrils of fear coil in his stomach at the cold determination in Rorschach's voice, "Okay man. Just- just bring yourself back too, you know?"

Rorschach huffed out what may have been a dry laugh, "Shouldn't be so ridiculous before patrol Daniel. Good luck." And with a nod of his head, he descended into the shadows of Daniel's basement.

"Yeah," Dan murmured to the empty space of his kitchen, "Good luck to you too, buddy."

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A/N: OH NOES. D: Well, we all know what happens after _this_ patrol. Sad face is sad… And yes, this was appallingly short and kind of fluffy but IT'S LIKE GOODBYE and I just couldn't help myself. :( But don't worry, next chapter's gonna be up later today or tomorrow. I promise!


	25. Chapter 25

Author's notes: OMG guys. 100 reviews. 100 REVIEWS. What is this I don't even. :D Thank you very much for all your responses and support!

Okay, so serious business time. This is Roche case fallout, happening about a couple hours after he burns down Grice's house and goes insane. This was originally 3rd POV Dan, but I thought that this would be a good opportunity to explore part of Rorschach's mutilated psyche at this point. I referred heavily to the GN and Rorschach's account of the case (even though he's not exactly Mr. Reliable Narrator…). So I think I made a pretty good balance of things, let me know what you think!

Warnings: Some morbidity and creepiness.

If I owned this, this would never have happened to the poor guy, let me tell you…

25. Shattered

His mouth was full of ash and the smell-taste of burnt skin weighed heavily on his face and his sole comfort was the familiarity of bloodshed that shrouded him like a mantle, cooling on his skin-his costume-his skin-he wasn't sure anymore but the uncertainty was vague and would pass in favor of the sharp convictions with which he would watch the world burn.

And everything was screaming.

Everything was screaming and it always had been and now he finally knew _why_. The knowledge vindicated him, freed him from the useless trappings of what passive intellects call _humanity,_ which is nothing more than ash raining down from the godless heavens and the screams of the guilty in the night and the baptismal scorching of blood. He no longer needed those gilded chains that held him back and fed his illusions.

Whatever illusions he'd had, they had shattered like ice.

The shrieks would not abate and he knew that was his punishment, penance for his failure and he would be forever haunted by the souls of those he had failed.

And his city is dying.

He already knew that. Before he truly existed, he'd believed that the city could be saved by the efforts of good men, but there _were_ no good men anymore, just men who may be less complacent and weak and corrupted than the rest of the decaying, reeking populace who wallowed in their dripping, rancid existence, tainting whatever white spots of innocence that was left on the world. And filth needed to burn. This he knew with the same conviction he'd had before a smoldering building, filth and perverse limbless torsos all burning and sizzling with the crackle of human fat and vice. Before this spectacle of final justice, he'd known that the darkness was infinite and we were alone in our shared oblivion. Ash was still heavy on his tongue and he allowed it to remind him of his greatest failure and his greatest epiphany. His eyes were still full of animal blood, crimson vision casting away any familiarity the dripping tunnel may have held for him as he walked towards the lighted end and the imagery may have had some significance for him, once. But that was before he truly existed. Before he'd seen the truth.

He had come for Her file. He needed it. They needed it. The voices screamed and shrieked in his mind and their wails drove him on because maybe if She had Her history back, She at least would have some peace in the oblivion which She'd been cast into by his own crushing failure and he didn't deserve any comfort, but She did and he was bound to serve Her in repayment for his blunders. Gloves violet-crimson clutched the manilla folder tightly and he was distantly satisfied that they were not shaking. They always screamed louder when he showed weakness. He'd only known them for a matter of hours, but he knew that the dead would tolerate no weakness from him. It was weakness that had reduced them to screaming condemnations in the back of his head and he had no right to show that kind of frailty again. But oh, if they could just _stop_ for a few moments, just a few moments so that he could _not remember _for just a few moments but they still screamed and screamed and-

"Rorschach?"

Why was it so quiet?

He looked up slowly, suddenly afraid to see whose voice it was who had quieted the screaming accusations (they never left, never again, but they were _quiet_, barely there) and made the red behind his eyes wash away because suddenly things were almost familiar and he was sure he knew that voice from somewhere and-

Oh.

The man at the top of the stairs, backlit by fluorescent light had brown eyes and an open face creased with concern and _he'd seen that man before, where had he seen that man before?_

"Are you okay, buddy?" The man asked again, taking a cautious step down the stairs, eyes widening as he took in the sight and Rorschach wondered what had startled him so much. When the man spoke up again, he sounded breathless and confused, "Rorschach… what happened?"

Daniel.

The idea of lurching forward and collapsing at the feet of this kind eyed man who he knew as Daniel suddenly seemed incredibly appealing to a part of him that should not be there anymore. This false-Rorschach voice wanted to tell him everything, to sob and weep and beg Daniel to make the pain go away. And that was unacceptable.

Instead, he raised the manilla folder so that Daniel could see it, "Won't need this anymore. Case closed." His throat was hoarse and constricted and he wanted to lift up the skin of his face for a moment so he could breathe but for some reason, he didn't want Daniel to see the smoke and ash that would surely billow out of his mouth of he did. Daniel's eyes were wide and his forehead was crinkled in confusion and fear and Rorschach wished he wouldn't do that because the expression was so unfamiliar, it made it that much harder to figure out where he'd seen him before. Instead, Daniel walked over to him and set a hand on Rorschach's shoulder. Peering into his face, he asked, voice soft and gentle, "You okay?"

The silence in his head was deafening and all at once, he wanted- no, _needed_- those voices to come back. To scream his faults back at him and give him that purpose that anchored him to reality because without them, it would be all too easy to start screaming himself, just to fill the gaping, aching silence that made him feel lost and alone and cold, _so, so cold._

Growling against the aching pain, Rorschach jerked away from the hand, immeasurably heavy with kindness and gentleness he didn't want or deserve. Daniel looked as though he had been slapped and then Rorschach_ remembered_.

Daniel was his partner. Daniel was his _friend_. Daniel was trustworthy and kind and Rorschach had been wrong before, there was at least one good man in this rotting city that writhed in its self-made bonds of vice and corruption and that man was looking at him, down in the darkness of a tunnel and he looked awfully out of place there, in the dripping shadows that welcomed Rorschach like family and-

_Daniel wouldn't understand._

Just as the thought hit him, the aches he'd been denying and the wails behind his eyes became _that much_ stronger, just within his earshot. This man, who would be a refuge from the ever-present dead, would never understand him. And suddenly, Rorschach understood why Daniel looked so afraid. Daniel was afraid of _him_ and even as he was pleading with him, urging him to do unthinkable things like "talk to me" and "come upstairs and let's work this out", the fear in his eyes betrayed him. He couldn't tell Daniel, couldn't weigh him down and sully him with the knowledge that had opened Rorschach himself to the howls of the dead. But more than that, Daniel wouldn't understand and in that, Rorschach knew that he was alone. And despite being solitary by nature, the word "alone" never tasted so bitter. He turned without reply and began walking back down the tunnel, angry and disgusted with himself for trusting such a naïve, foolish man who would never see the truth, who was as blind and weak as the rest of the populace and would one day fall among them, and live in the pale, squirming nest of indulgence and sloth. Like maggots.

He was glad Daniel made no move to follow him, just stood there, confused and hurt written on his face. He was even more relieved when the screaming began to echo in his ears again. It made him feel less alone.

He had no more use for the living. The dead made good company.

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A/N: *passes out * Well, that was depressing to write. Tell me what you thought about this one, I'm curious to see if I was able to communicate all I wanted to in this one. Also: I just want to share this because I am a weird dork, but I totally posted this in the weird in-between time at daylight savings time where you live the same hour twice (2am) because 1. this is the time that Rorschach died, kinda. I read this weird little thing that talked about because Antarctica is in some weird little thing with the time zones or something (god, it's late) and that it's ambiguous whether or not he died on the 31st (All Hallow's Eve) or the 1st (All Souls Day) and I feel like this was done on purpose. tl;dr: I am a pretentious asshole. :3


	26. Chapter 26

Author's notes: Grah. So I've had this chapter written forever ago since I decided to use this fic as kinda practice for nano-wrimo, I've been writing half a chapter a day (give or take, sometimes I forget and write a whole chapter). So needless to say, I'm getting a lot more done and it's weird having a whole slew of chapters all lined up, ready to go. Which...doesn't really explain why this one is so godawfully late. Bleh. It's mostly because I forgot that I actually hadn't posted this one yet and I thought I had to do 27 next. Which is a dumb little thing on its own. :/ Anyways, I hope you enjoy this one, it's not my absolute favorite, but it'll do. Lol.

Warnings: this isn't even remotely nice, guys.

26. Not Right

Daniel had figured that whatever the hell happened to Rorschach would take him about a month or so to work out. So he didn't look for him until then, deciding the best thing to do would be to let his partner figure things out for himself and just be available when Rorschach needed him. The problem was that Daniel had no idea how Rorschach was going to let him know he needed him, seeing as Rorschach failed greatly in all realms of communication. So he decided to, after every patrol, stay up for two extra hours with all the lights on in his house, as though he could draw Rorschach closer with the light, like a moth to a flame.

After a month patrolling alone, Daniel started to think he'd made a mistake.

Really, he should have known better. His friend was never any good at recognizing when he needed help, lately even more so. It had always been Daniel's job to sit him down like a child and yell at him and argue with him until they finally got to the bottom of things, more or less. And at times, Dan really resented the role, which usually got him bruised in both skin and pride. It was a little exhausting and a little heartbreaking all at once, and Dan _really_ should have known better than to think that whatever had happened was so bad it would scare Rorschach to talking to him on his own.

Knowing Rorschach, it would probably do just the opposite.

So Daniel took a more active role in searching for his friend. He would spend hours in Archie, instead of going on foot, scanning the streets for a flash of tan and purple. Or an irritating black-and-white mask. He saw none, and it was starting to scare him. He mentally reviewed the evidence as he flew over the South Bronx, looking for crime and his wayward partner. He thought about the night Rorschach came back from that little girl's case. Again, he cursed himself, _he should have known better._ Cases with children hurt Rorschach especially, and what was Daniel thinking, letting him go it alone? It was stupid; so, so _stupid_ and he didn't even know how to fix it. Rorschach had shown up in his basement smelling like wet dog and fire and absolutely _covered_ in blood. And Daniel could tell none of it was his. He'd stared at Daniel for a long time, he remembered, and swayed on his feet. He looked like he was going to collapse, and that had worried Daniel, who had walked down the stairs and put a hand on his shoulder. Rorschach had stopped minding that years ago. After ten years of partnership, Rorschach stopped minding a lot of stupid things Daniel did. But that night, he had jerked away from him, growling non-words like he was wont to do. But even though the message had gotten across (_get away from me_), Rorschach sounded weak and almost panicked. He left after without a word.

"Should have followed him. _Dammit_!" Dan cursed, slamming his fist on the console, scowling, "I shouldn't have let him go out by himself." He sighed, rubbing his eyes with a gloved hand. This wasn't his fault, he knew that, but knowing that did nothing to assuage the annoying feeling of guilt that squirmed in the back of his mind.

Commotion below caught Dan's eye. A feeling of relief washed over him as he angled Archie towards the earth. The feeling transformed to something stronger as he caught sight of his partner in the middle of the fray. _Thank god_, Dan sighed inwardly, refusing to acknowledge the side of his brain that kept waking Daniel up in the middle of the night with pictures of blood on white and tan. Or of someone hanging from the ceiling of an unknowable apartment, swinging.

Setting Archie to hover, he positively leapt out of the hatch onto the street below. Rorschach had taken care of most of the thugs, leaving them strewn all over the ground, unconscious. Daniel didn't see the need to interfere with Rorschach, who seemed to be doing a good job of things, so he grabbed one thug under the arms and dragged him to the nearest lamppost. When the thug's head lolled back at an awkward angle, Daniel's mouth grew dry and he leaned over to touch the junction where neck meets shoulder. The skin was already growing cold.

Daniel stared at the body in his hands, wide brown eyes meeting brackish, half-lidded ones. A surge of panic hit him and he dropped the body with an almost wounded cry, backing away. Rorschach didn't even notice. Rorschach.

Dan spun around to see Rorschach driving a man's head into the curb, blood and snot and probably bits of bone spun out and away from the his ruined face and shattered all over Rorschach's purple gloves, which looked red and rusted in the dim yellow light. Crusted over and flaking with other people's lifeblood. Daniel felt horrifically sick, spinning in a nightmare and he wasn't sure how he got over there so fast, but he barely had time to think before he was behind Rorschach and suddenly very afraid to touch him.

"Stop it." His words crawled out of his mouth, lethargic and stunned, as though in a dream. But Rorschach looked up anyways, his inkblots still a jack o' lantern leer that never looked so sinister before. He tried to remember a time when that face had ever made him smile. The man quivering on the ground gurgled and Daniel found his voice, "Stop doing that." There didn't seem to be anything else Daniel could think to say. Rorschach stared.

"No. Deserves it. Broke the law. Need to dispense justice." It was the voice that broke Daniel out of his nightmare-stupor. It sounded like Rorschach had swallowed broken glass, and the shards had ripped away his throat. The man had always sounded different, more of an affected growl than an actual voice anyway, but _this_. It was nothing like this. Daniel couldn't resist a shudder and Rorschach saw it, he knew, because the other man let out a quiet snarl and turned away.

"Go on Nite Owl. If you're not willing to dispense final judgment, leave it for those who are."

"No." Daniel said, stepping forward, "What the hell _happened _to you, Rorschach?" He reached out to touch him on the shoulder when Rorschach shoved him away.

"Go." The voice was dangerous and strained with barely suppressed rage.

"No." Daniel repeated, getting a little angry himself, "I won't. I looked for you for weeks. I don't know what the hell is going on but I'm worried about you. I want to know what happ-"

Rorschach knocked Daniel to the ground with one swift punch to the jaw. He then grabbed him by the scruff of his cowl and dragged him to where Daniel had parked Archie. Stunned, Daniel couldn't exactly put up much of a struggle. When Rorschach dropped him on the sidewalk, Dan lay there for a moment before he recognized what _exactly_ had just happened. Anger surged through his veins and he leapt to his feet, walked over to Rorschach, who was walking back down the alley, whirled him around and punched him in the face. Hard.

Rorschach let out a "kgg!" of surprise and pain and Daniel barely felt the crunch of bone underneath his knuckles and instead noticed how the black ink converged on the middle of his face, drawn to the warmth of spilled blood. Dan hadn't been pulling his punches, as he secretly did when sparring with Rorschach, and the force behind his fist snapped Rorschach's head back and knocked him to the floor.

Daniel didn't even feel guilty.

"We're going to patrol together tomorrow night," he said, levelly at the stunned figure lying on the gravel, "Meet me in the Nest at eight." With that, Daniel climbed into the hull of Archie and flew away.

He wouldn't full grasp what he just did for another three hours and seventeen minutes. When it finally hit him, he would collapse on his threadbare couch in his basement and bury his head in his hands.

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A/N: DAN! WHAT THE HECK?! I swear, he was totally _not_ supposed to do that. I have no idea where that came from. :( Poor Dan. Poor Rorschach. Well, yeah. I'm actually in a bit upset, but I guess that's the point. So yeah. Woot.

This chapter goes with the next one a little bit. Mostly because chapter 27 is a short and squat thing and really not very satisfying by itself.


	27. Chapter 27

Author's notes: hey there, everybody. So. Sound of Silence. It's short. Just so you know. Also: BLAH. As I said, this was supposed to come out _way_ sooner than it was, so a thousand apologies about that. School likes to eat my brains…

Do not own or this wouldn't be a problem. :/

27. Sound of Silence

Dan was beginning to feel like a taxi service. Every night for a week and a half after what Daniel mentally dubbed "The Incident", Rorschach would show up in his basement like Dan had instructed. Always right on time, silently waiting for Daniel to put on his costume, and then climbing into Archie without a word. And after a little while of riding around in silence, he would abruptly order Daniel to stop by some alleyway or rooftop and would depart without a second glance. And Daniel would watch as he melted into the shadows' embrace.

Sometimes, Daniel would try to talk to him, but Rorschach would never answer, or if he did, it was a short, often one-word response in a voice of a caricature. Or sometimes, he would proceed to deliver long monologues of the filthy nature of man with frightening imagery and grotesque metaphors and at those times, Daniel was almost relieved when Rorschach finally _shut up_.

Those were the times when he thought he preferred the silence.

Some nights, after Rorschach had disappeared, Daniel would try to follow him into the dark. But when Rorschach didn't want to be followed, then it made it nigh impossible for Daniel to do anything about that. But then again, if Dan was being honest with himself, he wasn't looking all that hard, the image of bloodied gloves and a jack o' lantern face still haunting his mind. There were times when he entertained the notion that maybe the man who was behind the mask wasn't exactly Rorschach. That maybe something had happened to his friend and he had appointed a replacement. He wasn't sure why he thought that would be a better alternative, seeing as the only way Rorschach would turn over his mask to someone else would be if he was dead. But it still seemed like a better alternative.

Some times, Daniel felt like the worst friend in the world.

Things were falling apart everywhere and Daniel often wondered how deep his partner's connection with the city ran. They both seemed to be going insane at exactly the same time, falling apart at the seams and Daniel wondered why it is that when both need him the most is when they both decided to push him away. At the same time, he wondered if he'd be strong enough to hold on if they reached out. Still, Dan felt like an asshole for not trying.

He knew what he should have done, that night, when Rorschach came back. He knew what he should have done _before_ that little girl's name ever reached their ears. He knew what he should have done right after. The problem was, he didn't know what he was supposed to do _now_. And that drove him crazy.

So he tried just being there, being the taxi service and listening to the silence and waiting for a way he could reach his friend. Rorschach had to be in there somewhere, waiting for Daniel to save him. At least, that's what Daniel hoped. The alternative, that Daniel would be sitting with this stranger in Rorschach's clothes, forever listening to the silence, was too much to bear.

There wasn't a whole lot to talk about lately.

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A/N: Blerg. That wasn't as good as I'd wanted to be. Like, at all. But it wasn't really supposed to be anything super _important_ so much as it was supposed to be a transition chapter for the next one, which I've already written so it won't be a kajillion years before the next update. Thanks!


	28. Chapter 28

Author's Notes: HI. This is a chapter based on The Fray's "How to Save a Life". It's an amazing song and I tried very hard to capture the mood of the song with this chapter. I wrote this one fairly early on too, so it's _really_ weird to be at this point. Hope you like it.

Warning: SAD.

I do not own Watchmen, or The Fray or "How to Save a Life". Or anything else you recognize. The angst, however, is mine.

29. How to Save a Life

It was dusk. Getting dark, but not so much so that it was time for patrol. Dan had asked Rorschach to meet him at this time, that it was important. Dan took another deep breath, willing his stomach to calm down and his heart to stop pounding. He couldn't mess this up, this was the only chance he would have to figure this shit out and he knew it. Any opportunity was precious and Dan wasn't about to waste one. Behind him, there was a barely perceptible creak from the door to announce Rorschach's arrival. Dan closed his eyes and took one more deep, steadying breath before facing his partner.

"Hey." Daniel greeted, hoping he looked as serious as he felt; he wanted Rorschach to know that he wasn't going to put up with any bullshit tonight, "We need to talk. No arguments."

Rorschach looked taken aback by Dan's assertive manner and nodded once, saying nothing.

Daniel was really getting sick of the silence.

Even so, he allowed himself to relax marginally-- so far, so good. Except that Rorschach was still just _standing there_, still and as impassive as a statue. As Jon. Dan barely restrained a shudder, "You can sit down, Rorschach," his nerves, stretched thin _already_, made him chuckle, even though he didn't think things could get any less funny, "It's just a talk."

Rorschach considered him warily for a moment before slowly sitting at the kitchen table. Still watching him as though he'd never seen Dan before in his life and was evaluating the possibility of danger. Struggling, no-- _needing,_ to find some sense of familiarity in this strange new creature, Dan tried on a smile that turned out more polite than friendly and Rorschach stared at him more out of suspicious than anything else. Like it was _he_ who had turned strange, and that it was _Rorschach_ who was suddenly and terribly wary of his own partner.

In a window to Dan's right, the sky was getting darker; he had less time than he had thought. Suddenly, with the pressure of time and sanity weighing on his shoulders, he felt doubt. Why was he doing this? Prying was never one of Dan's strong suits, preferring to leave well enough alone and nosing around in Rorschach's business never ended well and this whole thing had "BAD PLAN" written all over it and-

"Said you needed to see me. Said it was important. Should get to it Daniel, have patrol to do."

It was the voice that did it. That reminded him why exactly he felt compelled to do this thing. The voice, raw and monotonous and full of ash and broken glass, was what reminded him that whomever it was sitting before him, it was not his partner. This would have to be his business too if he ever wanted to get his friend back. Dan took a deep breath and began to talk. He'd planned for hours what he was going to say, how he was going to enumerate what was wrong, what had been wrong, what was _going_ wrong even as he stood there. Things that he'd said at the moment they were happening, sure, but now they were more articulate and less tinged with shock and fear. He listed how Rorschach had become quiet, withdrawn, angry, violent, and vicious; all of which he'd been before, only now more so. How he seemed indifferent toward the victims they'd rescue, something that _never_ happened before. How all of the things that used to upset him didn't even seem to touch the surface anymore. How he didn't want to shake his hand anymore. And how now, apparently, it was okay to kill. He didn't want to think about that. Not even now in the bright domesticity of his kitchen.

When he had finished, his voice was raw and tinged with desperation and fear. He stared pleadingly at Rorschach, praying to whatever deity that may exist to govern the insignificant lives of men that his broken partner had heard what he was trying to say.

"All these observations are true. Trust there's a point?" Rorschach rasped, his broken-glass voice grating against the last of Dan's reserve.

"The point is… that it scares me," Dan admitted, looking at the table, "You aren't… _you_ anymore. A-and I think I know why." Rorschach was staring at him intently, blood was rushing in Dan's ears, "Rorschach, what happened in the Roche case?"

Rorschach was a statue in the chair, fists clenched, shoulders trembling slightly. However, Dan was more relieved than frightened at this point. An emotional response was reassuring. Dan took a deep breath. This was the tricky part: somehow maneuver around Rorschach's barriers he'd so meticulously erected without giving his partner any room to escape in the justifications that flowed so freely from his partner. It'd be less heartbreaking if Rorschach hadn't believed every excuse he'd ever given Daniel.

"Look," Dan was secretly impressed with how steady he was able to keep his voice, "Rorschach. I can figure out what happened. Even if you never told me outright. And… I've been there, you know? I've been on some pretty awful cases and I understand--"

Rorschach growled. "Understand? Hrn. No Daniel. You do not understand." He tilted his monochromatic face to meet Dan's and suddenly Daniel had the terrifying notion that if Rorschach took off his mask, there wouldn't be anything under there, "You see the grotesque actions of city's depraved, but are too weak to take final actions. Pretend to… empathize with victims, but fail to realize that they are forever tainted. Marked by the lust for violence, or skin, or the greed of the scum you refuse to deliver final punishment to. Instead, choose to leave them in the hands of a corrupt force that holds members as filthy as the scum they apprehend. Delude yourself into thinking that the thanks you receive is what makes the job worthwhile. Not so. It is the thankless task of being the city's barrier against madness and disease. Don't need thanks. Not a whore, doing job for payment. We are final judgment. No retribution without final vengeance. Cannot compromise Daniel. Cannot."

Daniel looked at his friend and he was pretty sure he wanted to cry for this man who was _so broken_, "Rorschach." He spoke clearly and quietly, afraid to let too much emotion in his voice lest he drive his friend away, "What you're doing, it doesn't end well. You're going to die out there if you keep this up. That mask will eat you alive and it will break you." _If it hasn't already,_ but Dan refused to believe that just yet, "I don't want that to happen to you. You're my partner. Hell, you're my _best friend_." _Please, please._

Dan held his breath as his partner sat in silence. He figured there were two ways this would play out from this point. Rorschach could break down, admit Dan was right, tell him what happened and they would start to heal.

This was the least likely.

More likely, Rorschach would say, in one way or another, that he just wasn't the same and Dan would just have to deal with it. Leave it to Rorschach to do the unexpected.

"Can see my tactics disturb you, Daniel." Rorschach growled finally, "Disappointing. But not totally unexpected. Don't need to expect me anymore. Justice can be dispensed separately as well." With that, he was up out of the chair and down into the shadows of the basement before Dan could blink the shock from his mind. Dan stared in absolute and utter disbelief before punching the doorframe, cursing furiously. Fuck, what had he done wrong? He had said everything carefully, honestly, he'd tried to understand and all that had happened is he'd finally lost his partner and closest friend. As a wave of crushing loneliness washed over him, Daniel wondered why Rorschach had even come early anyways.

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A/N: *headdesk * Okay, so there's that. And I don't think these'll come as quickly update-wise compared to the older chapters, just so you know. It… takes me being in a specific mindset (namely, pissed, or upset, or depressed) or they come out really fake. And I'm trying to keep them as real as possible. I will make an honest attempt to keep it up regularly, but to tell the truth, they're kind of exhausting when I do them right and weekly angst is… hard I guess. :P But, don't worry, the gaps won't be huge and this _will_ get finished! I swear it! Thank you for your continuing support of my fic, as always.


	29. Chapter 29

Author's Notes: Hi guys! Okay, so GN!Chapter, omg! Lol, yeah, this one was interesting because I had to deal with the Comedian more so than I ever did before, so let me know what you think of his motivations for what he says. Or rather, _Daniel's_ views on his motivations. The Comedian has been a character that absolutely escapes me, so any advice/explanations would be awesome. Thank you!

Warnings: The crowd gets a little offensive. Even though you already know that.

29. American Dream

"_Please… if everybody would just clear the streets…"_ Dan trailed off hopelessly as he watched the crowd below him fume and spit venom. He glanced at his companion in something touching on disgust. The Comedian hung off the surface of Archie's eye and sneered out at the crowd through the black mask that looked like a skull, toting some kind of large firearm and looking like a skeletal soldier. He seemed at home in the midst of chaos and fire.

"Lissen, you little punks," he called out to the public at large, "You better get back in ya rat holes! I got riot gas, I got rubber bullets…" he would have continued his list of inventory, probably for no reason other than he could, but Dan felt that was a little threatening and dammit, this _could _be settled diplomatically. He wasn't going to open fire against his _own_ _citizens_. He swore to protect them when he took this job. He was not about to harm them now. Not while he was still in costume and still had a job to do.

"_There's no need for panic,_" Dan pleaded through Archie's loudspeaker system. The Comedian shot him an irritated look that he ignored, "_The police strike is being negotiated right now…_" he trailed off again, but this time it wasn't because he knew his pleas were falling on deaf ears. This time, he was watching the journey of one lone beer can. One belligerent looking man somewhere in the front of the crowd lobbed it. It moved almost in slow-motion as Dan watched it's inevitable trajectory in horror. It hit the Comedian's head with an almost comical _thunk_! The Comedian yelled in surprise.

"_Aak!_ Okay, that does it…" He prepped himself to leap down into the crowd and Dan couldn't do a thing to stop it. As if the Comedian would ever listen to him.

The rioters were unaware of their current danger. One nervy woman wearing a feminist T-shirt yelled out, "You pig! You call yourself the Comedian? You're a pig anna rapist!" Distantly, Daniel admired her bravery and he remembered a time when he felt the same righteous indignation towards those who thought they could break the law. Now, he just felt tired. She'd feel the same someday.

Someone else was yelling, "We don'want vigilantes! We want reg'lar cops!" Another, older woman supported him, spitting, "My son is a police officer, you faggots!"

_But we're not trying to take their place, _Daniel wanted to cry out, _we could work together again. We worked together before. Please, we don't want to fight with you. We want to help you. _But he remained silent, knowing that his words would mean nothing to a crowd of rioters out for his blood. Somewhere outside, the Comedian was counting, "…two potato, three potato…" Hell was going to break loose, and for all his genius and gadgetry, Dan could only watch.

"Four potato. Heads up!" The Comedian crowed, his eyes gleaming like beetles in the cruel light. He unhooked a tear gas grenade from his belt. Dan winced.

"_God, look,"_ He implored the people, the closest of which were already noticing the grenade and their anger was transmuting into something like fear, "_I'm sorry. You haven't left us any choice. This stuff is dangerous, please clear the streets._" And this time, they listened to Dan, because the Comedian had lobbed the thing in their midst, an answer for the beer can to the head. Or maybe he just thought it'd be funny. He was laughing in the street as the rioters fled.

"Ha! Look at 'em," He sneered cruelly, watching the scene.

"Comedian, this is a nightmare!" A part of him knew the Comedian couldn't give two shits how this turned out and that he shouldn't even be talking to him. Another part wanted someone to know how pissed off and helpless this made him and didn't care who exactly Dan told, "The whole city is erupting. How long can we keep this up?"

"Run you suckers!" The Comedian called out at the screaming people, covering their eyes and running every which way to escape the gas. He was laughing again and dammit, how is this funny? How in the world could you laugh at this and please, explain the joke to the class, Mr. Comedian, because the rest of us sure as hell don't get it.

"Comedian? I said…" He was interrupted before he could get further.

"I heard what you said," The Comedian didn't even look up from his gun, "My government contacts tell me some new act is being herded through that's gonna outlaw masks."

…_Oh god, it's really happening. It's really going to happen. How could they do this? How could they think this? Don't they know that we're just trying to—_

"Until then," the Comedian continued, "We're society's only protection. We keep it up as long as we have to."

--_Just trying to protect them…_

"Protection?" Dan echoed hoarsely as realization began ebbing through his consciousness. As he was _finally_ beginning to understand the joke, "Who are we protecting them from?"

"From themselves," was the prompt reply as the Comedian picked his way through abandoned protest signs, litter and broken glass. He glanced over his shoulder to smirk at Daniel. "Whassa matter?" He mocked, "Don't feel comfortable unless you're up against some schmuck in a Halloween suit?" Before Dan could think of a retort, the Comedian drove the statement home:

"Speakin' o' which, where the hell are Rorschach and the others?"

Dan was pretty sure he looked like he'd been slapped, because the Comedian glanced back and grinned again. Suddenly, he knew what the Comedian was trying to tell him. He was trying to give Daniel the punch line to his big joke. But, like any good comedian, he couldn't just _tell_ Dan the punch line. He brought Rorschach up to say _here's someone who gets it, here's someone who understands the joke, even if he doesn't think it's very funny._ Rorschach always understood what Dan was just beginning to see through the smoke and gunshots and spray paint. He wanted to scream, wanted to punch the Comedian in the face, wanted to track down Rorschach and punch _him_ in the face.

Instead he replied, "Jon and Laurie are handling the riots in Washington," He swallowed against any bitterness or sadness in his tone, "Rorschach's across town trying to hold the lower east side," He paused again, working against the dull pain that came with saying it aloud, "He, uh, he works mostly on his own these days." Flashes of blood and ash and fists danced behind his eyes and he was glad for his goggles. That way, the Comedian wouldn't see and mock him any more.

"Rorschach's nuts," The Comedian shook his head almost regretfully. _That's what you get for taking the joke too serious_, "He's been nuts ever since that kidnapping he handled three years back," and the accusation that wasn't there (because why would the Comedian give a shit anyways) twisted Daniel's gut with something like overwhelming guilt. "Him, Byron Lewis, Jon-goddamn-walking-H bomb-Osterman… all nuts."

Dan fought against the urge to punch him in the face and instead spat out, "But not you?"

The Comedian grinned cheekily back at him, "No. Not me. I keep things in proportion an' try to see the funny side…" Daniel wanted to ask what the hell was so goddamn funny when they both caught sight of a group of teens vandalizing a wall. "Drop that can, you little freak!" The Comedian shouted, firing his pellet gun without hesitation. Dan winced as he watched the other two teenagers picked up the injured one and carried him away. They walked over to the wall and Daniel could make out its message through the smoke:

_**Who Watches the Watchme**_

It was unfinished and Daniel momentarily entertained himself with the fact that it basically read "who watches the watch me." _Watch me. But who will watch me?_ He was well aware his thoughts weren't making much sense, coherency fading out in favor of dull horror and something akin to nausea. Predictably, the Comedian barked out a laugh.

"Ha! You seen this?" He gestured at the wall, "I seen that written up all over durin' this last two weeks! They don't like us an' they don't trust us."

"This whole situation…" Daniel murmured, still staring blankly at the wall, "…it's horrible."

The Comedian shrugged, "Well, me, I kinda like it when things get weird, y'know? I like it when all the cards are on the table."

What he said made sense and that scared Daniel more than he cared to admit, "But the country's disintegrating. What's happened to America?" The land of golden opportunity, the land of the free and brave, "What happened to the American Dream?" The last question slipped out, more to himself than the Comedian, an almost private joke with himself. He remembered when he was applying for Harvard, one of the questions was "in your own words, tell us what you think the American Dream is and if we can reach it". It had seemed like such an easy essay until he finally sat down to writing it. After over a week and intense research on the subject, Daniel had opted to try another essay prompt and to this day couldn't define the American Dream.

"What happened to the American Dream?" the Comedian echoed, something like triumph tinged his voice, "It came true!" he adjusted his gun and stood against the backdrop of smoke and ruin, "You're looking at it."

_Oh._

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A/N: Aw, poor Dan. Always attracts the crazies. :) Well, I'm actually getting a little nervous now. There's only two more chapters of and about the Keene Act and then we get into the scary sea of 1977-1984 where Ror and Dan barely see each other and are _annngsty…_ So I hope that won't be too much of a downer. :/ I guess we'll see.


	30. Chapter 30

Author's Notes: Hey there. So this took me a while because I was having trouble thinking of a not overdone way to have this done. And then this idea came to me while I was talking with a friend of mine. Be sure to let me know what you thought!

30. Retirement.

Day twelve. Daniel had marked his calendar, pasted the newspaper clippings in the last page of the old scrapbook, wrapped Archie in a tarp, and hung up the cowl. He had expected to feel relief, or anger, or an intense burning sadness. But instead, all he felt was numbness. Like his insides were full of cotton, and the cotton had absorbed all of his emotions. He still had the _Gazette _article about the success of the Keene Act on his kitchen table, folded out to the section discussing the different costumed heroes; who they were, what they had become, no more human than any other man.

The lack of fanfare or ceremony felt like a betrayal.

Dan supposed it was his little, weak form of rebellion that he chose to not reveal his name or any part of his identity to the public, that he would keep some of that otherworldly mystery. Nite Owl deserved that small favor at least.

Rubbing his temples against an anticipated headache, Dan sighed. It had been surreal not going out that first night. He'd sat up in the Owl's Nest, feeling like an intruder in slacks and a worn sweater vest feeling a tension headache build up around his eyes and staring out into the darkness of the tunnel mouth. He'd stayed up the whole night, not even feeling the hours pass and when he finally pulled himself off of the cold workbench and trudged upstairs, he felt as though he was waiting for a judgment in this cold, secret place that had never come.

He started having nightmares in the days after.

Daniel never really had nightmares. He attributed it to the lack of any good material, because despite his nights elbows-deep in other people's cruelty, he was always able to find something to help him cope. So his sleep was usually dreamless. Now, though, he began having nightmares that he never could really remember when he woke up, mostly recalling colors and gaping mouths and necks bending the wrong way and someone grabbing for him and never quite reaching.

He always woke with the sensation of falling, and it made his stomach turn.

Day thirteen and the nightmares were starting to go away, and his sleep was becoming quieter in their absence. He was beginning to develop a more "normal" sleep schedule and it bothered him, just a little, that it was barely two weeks and he was already getting used to inaction. But Daniel had always been good at adapting.

He stared into his coffee on day thirteen and that was one of the things that he hadn't adapted out of. He still drank coffee at stupid hours in the middle of the night and still sat at his kitchen table, tracing out the patterns with his fingertip for at least an hour. He wondered when he would start missing it. When he would start missing Nite Owl. Probably not for a while, he hadn't turned on the news or picked up a paper in thirteen days and that only kept him up sometimes.

The sound of things being moved in the Owl's Nest pulled his attentions away from the tabletop's patterns and jerked his eyes towards the door. Breath caught in his throat and adrenaline, sweet and fiery and oh, so _missed_, flooding through his veins and clenching his fists. He was on his feet in an instant and grasped the handle of the door. He paused a moment, bracing himself, fingertips tingling in a sort of giddy anticipation.

And then he threw open the door.

Standing impassive in the half-light was a familiar black and white visage looking up at him at the bottom of the stairs. His breath stuttered out of his chest and icy shock washed over the adrenaline. They both stared at each other for a moment, the rumblings of the air conditioning the only noise in the cave. Finally, Daniel stepped over the threshold and switched on the light. A light buzz of electricity joined the air conditioner to dance in the silence. Daniel closed the door and cleared his throat. Rorschach hadn't moved.

"Um, Rorschach." Dan greeted, confused and wary, stepping into the corona of light, "What are you doing? Er—not that I—uh."

"Why is Owlship covered?" Rorschach looked up at him, sounding as aloof as ever and Daniel would be fooled were it not for the years of partnership he shared with this man and the resulting proficiency he'd obtained for the language of Rorschach. And a fist, clenched and then released, spoke volumes.

"Uh. Wh- didn't you hear the news? About the Keene Act? And-and my response to it?" Dan asked, phrasing his words carefully.

"Yes," Rorschach answered dispassionately, "Didn't listen to meaningless slander. Know better than that," He paused and Dan winced mentally. God, how do you even respond to that? Rorschach stepped forward and this was the closest he and Dan had been in months. "Still," there was hesitation in his voice and something in Dan's chest hurt a bit, "Not sure why Owlship is covered up. Is it out of commission?"

Dan swallowed hard, "Uh. You could say that." Rorschach made a noise in the back of this throat.

"Made the right decision coming then," and the way it sounded like he was talking more to himself than Daniel… "You'll need backup without Owlship."

_You'll need backup_. It was always just that simple with Rorschach.

"No. Rorschach. I won't," Dan replied, forcing himself to look his (_god, former, isn't it)_ partner in the face. Forcing himself to grant Rorschach that last courtesy, "Archie's covered up because I'm not gonna need him anymore."

Rorschach looked surprised in that distant, second-hand way he felt things lately. But he didn't ask what Daniel meant, or make any more assumptions about it. Instead, he stared at Archie, head tilted in that familiar way that meant 'piecing things together' and then slowly turned his gaze back to Daniel. And he would look completely apathetic, were it not for the small, nigh imperceptible drop of his shoulders that screamed out 'lost'. Rorschach had only ever looked that way one other time, ever so briefly, covered in ash and blood. Dan winced and took a step forward, "Rorschach--"

Rorschach stepped away from him, hands rising defensively. Dan didn't think he even knew he was doing it, that was just how it was with Rorschach. Things were either neutral or threat. Dan just didn't know how he had come to be put in the category of threat. "Appears I've been mistaken. Going now."

"Wh-hey, no! Rorschach, wait!" Dan wanted to reach out and grab his arm, but he already knew how well that would go. Still, Rorschach stopped. "Wait," Dan pleaded, "This… this is what the people want. We began this business to help _them_," He threw up his hands in a helpless gesture he'd never felt so keenly, "This is too big to be hardassed about."

"No." Rorschach gritted out from beneath clenched teeth and latex, "Can't compromise."

"Yes you can," Dan begged, feeling at this point that he'd get down on his goddamned knees if that was what it took, "It's not even that big a compromise. Think about it, you could come over during the day, we can do things normal friends do, I'll help you. Just… _please_."

Rorschach stared at Daniel, hands in his pockets, shoulders quivering and tense, "Goodbye Daniel." He turned around and walked back down the tunnel, shoulders hunched over as though he was preparing for a blow. Dan made a hopeless noise.

"Rorschach! Rorschach, wait a second!"

But he didn't. Dan stood in the Nest next to Archie staring at the point where his former partner had disappeared for hours, waiting for something, always waiting.

He had nightmares for the rest of the week.

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A/N: Sad!! D: Anyways, I think I'll be working with some more of our tiny ginger psycho in the next chapter. You know, how he's coping with things and such. Which will be interesting. Thanks for your feedback, as always!!


	31. Chapter 31

Author's Notes: Wow. Blah, it's been forever. Sorry about that guys. Thanks for your patience. And an incredibly grateful shout out to Fractaledsymmetry for the awesome and constant support in way of reviews. They are so appreciated.

Okay, this is Rorschach's opinion of Daniel's retirement and the mandate the Keene Act puts forward. He's none too happy about this, obviously.

31. Never!

"_Archie's covered up because I'm not gonna need him anymore."_

"…_The Keene Act making costumed heroes illegal…"_

"_This… this is what the people want. We began this business to help them!"_

"…_Are forced to take off their masks and reveal their true identities…"_

"_...The vigilante known as 'Nite Owl', whose predecessor is Hollis Mason…"_

"…_Says he has agreed to retire, but will not reveal his true identity…"_

"_It's not even that big a compromise."_

"_We wish these people all the best for a normal life…"_

"_Think about it, you could come over during the day, we can do things normal friends do, I'll help you."_

"_I'll help you."_

"Please, somebody help me!!"

Harvey Charles Furniss. Wanted multiple-rape suspect. Evaded the police capture for almost a year. His screams echoed in Rorschach's head and gave him a certain sense of satisfaction. He wouldn't be hiding anymore.

Hauling the blubbering man to his feet, Rorschach wrenched back his arm, relishing in the sounds, the brittle snap as bone crumbled under his grasp, the agonized screams of the man under his fingers, crying out in pain and anguish. And fear. Fear was the most important thing. Fear was what any animal understood. Fear was the only punishment the dog-faced creatures who dripped blood and vice and dishonesty could ever comprehend as they stalked the streets of a filthy, corrupted city. An appropriate hutch to trammel him in. Damned as he was, he'd already found hell.

As he kicked in the animal's back (_not man's, he's given up all rights to be human)_, Furniss let out an awful scream. Rorschach snapped his neck. The screams stopped. As if monsters were allowed to scream. As if they had the right to express their pain.

If Rorschach couldn't scream, neither could they.

"_I'll help you."_

The keening noise that escaped his lips disturbed him, so he bit down on his lip as he pulled a page out of his journal. He might have broken skin that way, but his mouth was so full of blood, he didn't notice. Furniss' eyes were open, wide and fearful and full of blood. In the shadows, his head looked split right down the middle, and the cold sweat dripping from his brow mingled with the blood between his eyes.

Distantly, Rorschach wished it wasn't just an illusion.

He pulled out the stub of pencil and stared at the paper, suddenly feeling as though he was writing out his fate for the Final Judgment. Sealing it with lead on paper.

He wondered when he had gotten so morbid.

Voices swirled around his head. It was disquieting when they weren't screaming. The low murmurs were worse. They said things that cut like paper cuts, stinging and biting little things.

"_You're Rorschach, right? I've heard of you."_

Yes, the screams were infinitely better.

"_If you want, you could join up with the other masks. We meet sometimes."_

Rorschach bit down on his tongue as those disturbing keening noises escaped from his throat. It was distracting. It was painful. It was punishment for being so weak.

"_We make great partners."_

Rorschach dropped his pencil and rocked back on his heels, scrabbling at the skin of his face. He jerked it up high enough so that it wouldn't get dirty as he retched, saliva and acids hot and bitter rising up in his throat. His hands were trembling as they scrabbled at the concrete under his feet, grasping for the dropped pencil.

This was unacceptable.

Anger rose up in his gut as the saliva went down and he wasn't sure what to do with it. He only knew that he was wasting time here when he should be patrolling. When he should be doing his penance for his sins and failures. Even if he was the only one left.

"_You know that even if this Crimebusters thing goes through, you're still my partner, right?"_

With a snarl, Rorschach grabbed at the pencil and pulled it across the page. No more deliberation, no more consideration, no more waiting, waiting, _waiting_ for someone who would never come again.

"_I'm just trying to make sure you don't drift out of touch, y'know? Just trying to keep my friend."_

There were lies on top of lies on top of half-truths on top of trust and Rorschach was sick of it. Baring his teeth, he shoved the note into his pocket and hauled up the dead man to his feet. They were only men when they were dead. And the weight of one dead man was nothing when compared against ten years of lies. Everyone lies. Everyone is guilty. There were no good men. There never were. The only good men were dead men.

"_Let me help you."_

Rorschach laid the note on the dead man's chest and stepped back into the shadows. In the darkness, the lies were bearable.

"NEVER."

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A/N: Whoo. Poor Rorschach. Though, I must say, it was almost morbidly fun to get back in his head (or at least try). ALSO ALSO: holy crap, someone drew art for meee~!

Here's the link: http:// rhaeii.

Spaced because is touchy. XD It's still a WIP, but go there and tell this wonderful lady how wonderful she is anyways!!!


	32. Chapter 32

Author's Notes: Hi. Today I come bearing morbidity. Hope you, er, enjoy it?

Warnings: Scary imagery

32. Guilt

_This isn't right._

As Dan walks the streets, cape whipping in the hollow wind and backlit by the silvery moonlight, he can't shake the feeling that something is _(was, will be)_ very wrong. Everything looks milky and ethereal in the moonlight and the shadows make all the houses look like skulls no matter how Daniel adjusts his goggles. His footsteps echo more than they should, and that's not right either. He was never this loud. He thinks he hears hollow steps padding against the pavement, but when he whirls around to face his stalker (cape swirling behind him in almost stop-motion and has it always been that long?), there's no one there.

There's nobody anywhere, and Daniel knows that's not how things are supposed to be.

His breath stumbles out of his chest in gasps, but he can't hear himself breathe. He can, however, hear his footsteps. And they're so loud. His goggles are starting to squeeze his head and he adjusts them, unwilling to take them off even for a moment. He knows without knowing that if he takes off his goggles then he will see everything. And he's not sure he can handle that. It seems very terrible.

He figures he ought to start looking for people. Maybe the Comedian. For some reason, Daniel thinks this would be a good idea and he starts walking down an alley. It'll take a while to get to the Comedian's house, but it's pretty important, and worth the walk.

He squints up at the sky and it's red but that makes sense. It does.

Something dark trickles in front of his lenses and he touches it. It slides beneath his fingers and even though it looks black he knows it is blood. His blood. The goggles are cutting into his forehead and making him bleed. But he is afraid to take them off, so he ignores it.

He forgets where he needs to go and feels slightly panicked because he doesn't know where he is. Something's watching him. He can feel it with the gooseflesh on his neck and the tightening of his muscles. He's the Night Owl after all, he ought to know if someone's—

He frowns. No, that's not right. It's not _Night_ Owl, is it?

The goggles are making blood run down his face and making everything seem a thousand times closer, more distorted and the houses look like they're leering at him, nothing but malcontent and ill intentions in their features. They look like something that's died in the water. And they're coming for him. The city's coming for him and it's gonna—

He jerks off the goggles and throws them onto the pavement. When they hit the ground, they shatter in a thousand pieces like glass. The shards glint in the moonlight and stab at him. The noise of their destruction sounds like a scream and when Daniel puts his hands up to shield himself, it's too late. And they pierce his eyes.

Shuddering, he begins to run and run and run and the alleys are charred with fire and they _twist_ and it doesn't really make any sense because alleys don't turn this way and as he runs there are too many corners to turn through and there are bumps in the road that throw Daniel in the air and he is still twisting and spiraling through the streets, spinning and wheeling through labyrinthine visions of brick and mortar and faster, faster, _faster_, they're going to catch up and then—

He walks up to his front stoop and brushes the snow off of his cardigan. The whole city's covered in snow and the cold should begin to bite soon if he doesn't get inside. Squinting through his glasses (because his eyesight's starting to get so bad nowadays…), he unlocks his door and steps into the house and _oh my god_

_They are all hanging from his ceiling._

His mouth mirrors theirs in a silent, desperate scream as he looks upon them, pale and bloated with wide, wide eyes rolled in anguish and terror. He steps forwards instead of back and he doesn't know why, but he wishes he hadn't because he knocks into one of them (and really, it's impossible not to, there is no space between them). It sways limp and doll-like from the contact and its head lolls horribly from its neck, horribly and unnaturally angled by the thick, black cord.

He might have screamed, but there isn't any sound and he pushes it away from him, unwilling to look and it falls to the floor. They are all falling to the floor and somehow Daniel is in the middle of them and they are all falling limply on him, weighing them down with their bloated bodies and their cold, empty eyes that all have pieces of glass stuck in them. He can feel their blood in his mouth and their last words on his breath and it smells like rotting leaves and leather. As he falls, he hears something mutter about justice and redemption and trust _I trusted you_ and he can no longer breathe and he feels so _cold _and _maybe if you'd cared from the start, none of this would have happened—_

…

_GOD NO IT'S TOO COLD._

Daniel jerked up in his bed mid-scream and looked wildly around his darkened room, his breath coming out in short, panicked bursts. He ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair and cursed.

"Jesus," He sighed, putting the shaking hand over his eyes until his heartbeat slowed to something more reasonable.

You'd think after three and a half years, you wouldn't have nightmares anymore.

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A/N: Well wasn't that fun. Yay for nightmares, right? Lol. Anyways, this one was kind of hard because I wasn't sure what Dan's nightmare should be. _Rorschach_'s on the other hand, I'm actually looking forward to. I've some sick shit for this little twisted guy to dream about. Because don't tell me Rorschach doesn't have nightmares. Haha.


	33. Chapter 33

A/N: Freaking hell. SO SORRY for the super long delay, not only did college try to eat my brains, but I had writer's block like you wouldn't _believe_. Still, it's been ages, and that's super lame. :( This definitely won't happen again, seeing as I've basically written every other chapter to the end except this one. Thanks brain. :/

Warnings: none, except this is a really experimental chapter and probably doesn't actually have any place in this story except that I really needed to update and I've gotten curious with this idea ever since I read this in other comic books. Oh yeah, THERE'S LIKE FIVE SECONDS OF SLASH. FOR REALZ THIS TIME.

33. Realities

Blood was pouring through Rorschach's fingers as words _(incoherent, frantic, rambling, desperate)_ poured from his mouth. Pleads to the sky and to god and to the man limp on the ground, his only friend.

Daniel was not responding and Rorschach shouldn't have expected him to. This was not anything that could be mended with sutures and bandages and painkillers _(no more kind words, gentle hands, gentle eyes, patience breathed out in a sigh)_. Still, Rorschach babbled and pleaded and pressed bare hands _(skin to skin for the first and last time)_ to the wound and did not feel the sticky warm sensation of blood oozing onto his hands. Daniel's eyes were open _(blank and bleak and terrible) _and staring up at the sky with a half-lidded gaze. Blood trickled, thin and watery through open lips and this wasn't _right_. It was never supposed to be Daniel, never intended to be Daniel _(good, gentle, unassuming)_ to be the one to end this way. If it wasn't for… for—

Rorschach looked up, lips pulled back into a snarl _(his mask was off and the monster was gone and everything was so very empty)_ at the man who had put a bullet in Daniel's head. Rage filled him, washed over the jagged edges of loss and grief and fear _(yes fear, fear of being alone and all his fault--)_. He wasn't getting out of here alive, and that was how it was _supposed _to be. He didn't much want to live anymore, anyway. Didn't want to live now that everything was gone in a flash of tentacles and horror and failure. Now that there was a body that _shouldn't be dead_ bleeding and cold at his feet. A punishment for defiance—

_(Rot in hell…)_

The flash of pride Rorschach felt at Daniel's words drew him up, to stare at the man with pain and defiance in his eyes, "What are you waiting for? Do it."

Adrian did pulled the trigger again. Everything went—

_Went_—

_But this isn't right—_

"_Rot in hell…"_

_Life is so very long…_

…

It was one of the first times Hollis had ever been out on. The night was generous, yielding a thwarted mugging, a stopped assault and plenty of gratitude and awe. Hollis went back home with a spring in his step despite being exhausted, battered and bruised. He was finally doing good, finally making a difference, making lives better and life had never been sweeter.

Then he opened the paper the next morning.

A kid had been orphaned, his parents shot. A robbery. One he could have stopped if he'd only stuck to his pre-decided patrol route. The picture of the little boy, stunned, silent, heartbroken, was splashed across the front page, the theater posters a backdrop to his pain.

When whispers of a dark shadow, sinister and angry, reached Hollis' ears, he pulled out the old newspaper clipping of the little boy orphaned and looked at the posters behind him. Then, he stopped wondering, shook his head, and put the paper away.

Bats were very intimidating creatures…

_Bats were_

"_It's time my enemies shared…"_

_All those I might have helped…_

…

"Hi, I'm here to pick up an order?"

Walter looked up from the register to see a tall, brown-haired man standing before him, smiling behind large glasses. Walter nodded, "Name?"

"Ah. Daniel. Dreiberg." The man shuffled his feet and Walter spared one moment wondering how a man could possibly manage to look friendly, polite, and painfully awkward all at the same time. Biting down an amused smirk, Walter found the order slip and disappeared into the back room. It never took Walter very long to find what he was looking for and not a minute had passed before he found the order. Formal wear. It had needed to be taken out around the shoulders and the pants had needed to be hemmed.

Walter pulled it off the rack and stepped out of the room, back into the light of the front room. He passed Dreiberg the order and instructed him to go try it on in one of the fitting rooms.

After a moment, Dreiberg stepped out of the room, his black slacks and suit jacket looking ridiculous with his tennis shoes and worn blue T-shirt with an owl of all things emblazoned on the front. The man grinned, as though he were aware of just how silly he looked. "So, ah. What do you think?"

Walter swallowed down his amusement and returned to business, looking at the man up and down. The pants were a good length, and fell nicely on his shoes. The jacket looked much better as well. Walter grunted, "Good. What do _you_ think?"

Dreiberg grinned again, "Looks good to me. Thanks. I'll go and change back then."

Walter nodded and as the man disappeared back into the fitting room, Walter rang up his order. When Daniel came back out, he had his jeans back on and his formalwear halfway back into the bag and hanging haphazardly off the hanger.

"You're going to get them wrinkled faster if you don't put them back properly," Walter said before he could stop himself. The man looked surprised and Walter couldn't blame him. Finally, the man—Daniel Dreiberg—laughed and adjusted the clothes so they were hanging properly.

"Thanks again, man," Daniel said as he passed Walter the money, "I'm Daniel Dreiberg by the way—er." He trailed off and flushed as he realized that Walter probably already knew that. The corners of Walter's mouth lifted.

"Walter Kovacs," He replied, holding out a hand to Daniel. He laughed, relieved, and shook Walter's hand.

When Daniel left the shop, Walter couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity. And the hope that he might come back again.

_Come back again…_

_Come back…_

…

It's the rasp of stubbled cheek against skin. The press of lips on lips, hungrily seeking to taste and explore and claim. The slide of skin on skin and the blessed friction resultant of it. Here there is warmth and breath whispered against an ear. And an ear pressed against a bare chest, feeling the heartbeat there, beneath warm and trembling skin and pulsing flesh. The words are never said, never actually released into the cold air between them. Everyday implied with light words, and patience. Gentle hands and gentle eyes where there never was anything but pain. And that is enough for the both of them. Because neither one has ever really loved or been loved before now. And sometimes that's terrifying. Sometimes it's suffocating and too much and there's a thousand things that could be wrong about this. But it's true, and it's them and it's _right—_

_Right?_

_This must be—_

_Be near me when my light is low—_

_Lips that would kiss—_

…

A man walks down the street to a purple-lit restaurant. He is nondescript, hunched over with the weight of his cares. Bespectacled, overweight, brow furrowed with perpetual worry.

Another man watches him, passing judgment with his dead-eyed stare. He is small in the way that said he'd always been small. His hair is red and his face is freckled and his body has been battered with a thousand cares and this is the way the world is—

_This is the—_

_This is the way the world ends—_

_Its hour come round at last…_

…_Things fall apart…_

…

_-_

_-_

_-_

A/N: FINALLY. Okay, so there are some notes that go with this because some of this stuff WAS NOT MINE: (in order of appearance)

Okay, so this whole premise of this first "reality" was lifted in part from another comic book story. I won't say who for fear of spoilers, but here's a big hint: it's the guy whom Dan was based off of. And "_Life is so very long"_ is from "The Hollow Men" by TS Eliot. Because I just had to analyze that poem, like, 3 days ago. And it's a damn good poem. XP

BATMAAAN! Because how could I resist. Also, in case you didn't catch that, in the awesome montage at the beginning of the movie, there's a shot of Hollis basically saving Bruce's parents. So I decided that Batman isn't allowed to be happy and killed his parents again. *evil grin* Also, "All those I might have helped…" is a half quote from Samuel Beckett's _Endgame_, which is fabulously incomprehensible.

TAILOR!SCHACH. No note here besides I basically love the idea that in some universe Walter's a happy tailor. (and this maay be my next big project…)

AUGH SO MUCH CONTRIVED FLUFF WHAT THE SHIT. D: Okay, so writing random slash moment with no explanation or build-up is _hard._ *whines more* And "Be near me when my light is low…" is part of a _beautiful_ poem by Tennyson called "In Memoriam" where basically he talks about how sad he is that his best friend is dead and how much he loved him. It's sad and awesome. And "Lips that would kiss" is also from "The Hollow Men" from my all-time favorite stanza. It rips out my heart all the time. D:

Oh noes! Canon! No fun at all! :[ "This is the way the world ends" is from, again, "The Hollow Men" (okay, I just analyzed the shit out of this poem, SHUT UP.) and the last two lines are from Yeats' "The Second Coming", which will always hold a special place in my heart.

O HAI THERE PRETENSION, LET'S BE BFFS. XP Sorry. I hope this was worth the wait. I tried making it a little more exciting to make up for the looooong time between updates. And I would love to know what you think.

THANK YOU GUYS. REALLY.


	34. Chapter 34

Author's Notes: So I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. Mostly because it sprang out of my refrigerator and tackled me to the ground. I'm still sore. Lol. Anyways, so… yeah. Not a whole lot actually _happens _in this chapter which is what I'm worried about. And the pacing. :/ But I kinda enjoyed this chapter in that it was very interesting to write. AND THE QUOTE. Omg, the _Bible?!_ It was the weirdest moment EVER when I found it. It was on someone's DA account and I was like * points* "OMG!!" and thus this was born.

Warnings: Well… this is probably not the _greatest_ way to use the Bible… it's not meant to offend, but I guess it could. So yeah, if you're opposed to Bible passages being mixed in with WM, read no further.

34. Isaiah 57:4

"_Israel's watchmen are blind_

The passage comes to him unbidden. A snippet of a memory from before he existed. From before he emerged from the grime and ash and sin into the dark truth. He would think _until I had seen the light_, but there is no light to see. Everything is dark. It's dark all the time now, and always solitary. He is alone. His false self had friends once. Or at least colleagues. That weak, tremulous shadow of his true self needed companions, needed to _belong_. The word and idea disgusts him now as does his previous desire to aspire to the idea. He was weak then, flimsy, disgusting. He does not miss his former self any more than a cancer patient would miss a tumor, a sick, bloated cyst leeching the life and potential from an otherwise healthy body. He'd been the only one to be cured.

_They all lack knowledge;_

He no longer desires to belong anywhere. Understands now how foolish and unnecessary and _compromising_ it is to do so. The other so-called "costumed heroes" are blind, weak, as sickeningly complacent as he had been. Believing that they could bow out, that they were no longer needed. Like dispensing justice was a hobby that could be cast away at will, as if they could free themselves from the duties they all took on.

_They are all mute dogs,_

It is raining, and the rungs of a fire escape ladder are slippery under worn gloves. He does not worry about slipping. He does not worry very much anymore. There is no room for self-indulgent concerns. He is the only one left. The last line of defense in a city that would be besieged by sin and corruption and filth and if it already has then it is his job to be rid of it. Nobody else will do it anymore. Nobody else will take up the call. He leaps down the rest of the way onto the grubby concrete below. Descends into the mud.

_They cannot bark;_

He hears a scream. Later, he will call the sound the "first bubbling note of city's evening chorus" and maybe he'd find the imagery apt now, but right now he thinks of nothing. Is busy batting down a phantom memory of flashing grins and someone beside him, answering the call. Someone who would speak up against the rising tide of degradation and squalor. Who would take action. As it is, the memory is not his and it is only a minor distraction. There is no one here and he runs to the sound, accompanied by his shadows.

_They lie around and dream,_

When his fist connects with the would-be rapist's nose, he feels nothing. But it is not apathy. He knows what apathy is. Knows what indifference can do to a being who would otherwise be a savior of men. When he feels nothing, it is because he cannot bear to feel anything anymore. Because when he forgets, and begins to feel things, _they_ descend upon him, their screaming unbearably loud, echoing that phantom-self that still yet clings to a single effervescent thread of life. But when _he_, that gleaming beacon of protection and omnipotence, feels nothing, it is because he has forgotten how to feel. Because he has forsaken that painful burden of humanity. Has probably forsaken humanity in general in favor of dreaming among stars and fractals. Never ending. "Nothing ever ends," is his sole belief. Only he's wrong.

_They love to sleep._

Some things end. Things like resolve and determination and friendship that should have been enduring and stable and always _there_ have already ended. And now in their absence comes complacency and laziness and a softness that doesn't just rest in smiles and brown eyes. If nothing ever ends, then he's not sure what to make of the absence of a familiar presence at his shoulder and of the words "I quit". Quitting means ending and ending means alone and it always comes back to _that word_ and it tastes bitter still as he watches the criminal's bloody eyes roll back into his smashed and ruined face to sleep eternally. To sink back into the oblivion everyone is destined for. And he isn't tired. He isn't.

_They are dogs with mighty appetites _

He cannot afford to be tired. The filth and scum and the depraved of the city is never tired. They are always there, a ready-made sense of purpose squirming beneath his feet and if he can only smash them all, crush their revolting bodies under his heel before they can spawn. Filth begets filth, scum begets scum and he is above that now, born again at the expense of innocent blood and gap-toothed smiles and a good mother's tears. He will not belittle that sacrifice and as he walks away from the ruined corpses of rotting men, he tries to think of that. He reminds himself of his purpose and the chorus of ghosts that tear at him and rip apart his mind agree. They will call for more bloodshed and he will oblige. He is at their disposal, as penance for his sins. And they are voracious.

_They never have enough_

They are voracious and they call out to him in time with the city. In time with the next would-be victim, with the next piece of filth he will eliminate from the world. There are cries everywhere and he has to answer them all. He _must_. For every time he fails, every time he cannot meet the needs of they who spur him on with their pain, another wraith joins his company, and he will shoulder their pain as his own. He owes it to them, they whom he has failed. They have fallen into oblivion undeserving even as they reached up frail arms plaintively for him to save them, for him to do what he swore he would do. Their pain becomes his pain because it his punishment. He's cleaned himself out to make room for their suffering. He doesn't know how much room he has left. There's never enough room.

_They are shepherds who lack understanding;_

That's why he must be alone. He's realized this already. Those who would want to help, those who would try to share the burden will never understand. And they wrap themselves in their complacency like a shawl and smile for the world like painted dolls, unreal and distant in their beauty and perfection. They claim their dream is to make a heaven, but they share it with horrors painted over with gold and embellished with lies and justifications. They don't see that they welcome with open arms the vices and filth they claim to abhor. They are no different, and they cannot see it.

_They all turn to their own way _

So they turn away from their duty. From those who need them. And he is left to clean the rot they have left behind. They are no longer honorable people, they have become tainted and unclean, soiled all. Only he remains above it all.

_Each seeks his own gain."_

Only he remains to fulfill his duty to the dead, to those he has failed. He is always alone, flanked by his wraiths and their accompanying pain. He doesn't allow the words _can't take it anymore _to enter his mind. They won't let him quit.

-

-

-

A/N: Sigh. Now I feel weird. Lol. Rorschach's head is weeeiird… And more depressing days ahead, with a special-guest appearance!


	35. Chapter 35

Author's Notes: Hi everyone! So I am writing this A/N as I go, so I have no idea what's going to happen!! I have a vague idea based on something I read in the sourcebook, that Dan went to Maine sometime after he retired (I think…) and I thought, hey, Byron's loony bin's in Maine! And so…

Warnings: None except for the sad. Because I love Byron. :( Oh also, I totally break the mood early on by slipping in another geek-reference. A thousand internet cookies to anyone who gets it!

35. Better Days

Daniel squinted against the torrent of rainwater and wind that slapped hard against his windshield. The wipers were holding up against the barrage, but the rainwater still blurred the view of the glistening road before him, making it soft and foggy around the edges. He didn't really appreciate the surrealist rendering nor the way the car bumped its way down the asphalt, humming and buzzing and all too fragile. It made him feel a little vulnerable, small and helpless in this little tinpot car.

Fortunately, he was past the point of wishing for the Owlship.

The road was curving and treacherous, made twice so by the rain and wind. Trees lined the road on both sides, waving and gesticulating in the wind and making everything feel dark and closed in. As thunder rumbled and muttered just within earshot, Daniel rolled his eyes. Really, he was starting to believe his life was a walking cliché. Here he was, on a dark and stormy night (well, afternoon) driving a winding, treacherous and isolated road to an insane asylum. It was almost gag-worthy and Dan was not impressed in the slightest.

He almost wished he'd made up an excuse to Hollis, made up some reason why he couldn't go and visit Mr. Lewis in his mentor's stead. But he was a rotten liar and he could understand Hollis' habit of seeing Byron. Especially now that he and Hollis were in the same boat. Anything to hold on to some remnant of better days. And maybe Byron would recognize him this time. Last time, Byron had been convinced that Dan was in fact some man named Ted and had spent the whole time asking about how business was going. It was awkward and would have been a little funny if Dan couldn't see how much it bothered Hollis. Which, again, Dan could understand. He was all too familiar with how much it hurts to have a friend go insane.

Dan sighed and rubbed at his forehead with his knuckles, brushing those stupid licks of hair out of his face.

He pulled into the driveway of a ridiculously stereotypical asylum that looked like it'd be at home in a horror flick. Dan rubbed his eyes and wondered if anyone else in his life was aware of how ridiculous things were, or if it was just him. Sighing, he pushed the door open and turned up his collar against the rain and wind and rushed to the gate. Pushing through the double doors, he was greeted with the less esoteric design of typical hospital. He smiled politely at the woman at the front desk, who looked surprised to hear who he was visiting. She squinted at him closely before her face cleared.

"Oh, you're Mr. Mason's friend," She smiled, "That's right. I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you. You look so…" She seemed to be trying to find the best way to tell him that the last time she saw him he'd been a thinner, muscular and more confident young man. He smiled at her again and knew it wasn't the same one he'd given her all those years ago.

"Yeah, the years haven't been all that great to me," He laughed in familiar self-depreciation and cleaned off his glasses, "It's okay."

She smiled uncertainly, torn between saying nothing and being polite and telling him that he didn't look all that different, really. It'd just been a while and she wasn't really looking etc, etc. Instead, she opted for an apologetic smile and leading him to Byron's room.

"He'll be happy to see you," she said, "He's been doing very well today."

"Oh. Uh. Good." Dan nodded, keeping his polite smile. She opened the door and stepped in.

"Byron? You have a visitor Mr. Lewis. It's Dan Dreiberg."

Dan walked into the room with the unshakable feeling of awkwardness he always felt seeing someone he hadn't seen in a while. Byron had aged well, his hair still mostly brown and the wrinkles concentrated mostly on his eyes. He smiled at Dan, who smiled back.

"Ah. Hi, Mr. Lewis," Dan extended his hand to take Byron's. He shook it, "I don't know if you remember me, uh, it's been a while…"

Byron squinted nearsightedly at Dan's face for a moment before leading back and nodding, "Yeah. Hollis' little protégé. How are you, Danny?"

Dan let out a _whoosh_ of breath as he grinned in relief, "Yeah. Yeah, that's me. Hollis couldn't be here today, sir. He's sick and may be down with the flu."

Byron waved his hand dismissively, "Ah, that's all right. He needs to be in top shape for his job, I don't blame him for not coming to see me."

Dan's heart sank and he searched for something to say, some tactful way to correct him, but Byron kept on going. "You know that Hollis put away Captain Axis a few weeks ago?" Byron beamed, "Good stuff. Good, good work. That's what you need to aspire to when you're out there, Danny boy." He nodded emphatically, "Yep. We did some good work. And when I'm outta here… It's gonna be back in business for Mothman!"

Byron looked so satisfied in his thoughts and memories that Dan could only find it in him to smile and say, "That sounds pretty good, Mr. Lewis."

"Danny," Byron looked reproachful, "Mr. Lewis is my father. Call me Byron. Everyone's so polite lately! Take Bill for example! I mean, he's one of the most goddamn polite…" He trailed off and his face fell as he looked around the room. Dan swallowed as the realization set in. Byron suddenly looked twice his age and twice as small as he stared at the bedspread.

"It's over, isn't it?"

Daniel didn't know what to say, but suddenly felt just as lost and wretched as Byron looked. "Yeah," he murmured finally, "I think it is."

Byron looked up at him, eyes suddenly sharp and clear, "There's nothing worse than losing your friend. Nothing in the world. 'Specially when it's something you can't help. Feels like your heart's getting ripped out and there's nothing you can do about it but be sorry. So, so sorry. I'm so sorry, everyone. I'm so sorry for everyone. So sorry because you can't be anything but sorry when it's all gone. It's all over and I'm so sorry."

Dan put a hand on his shoulder, "I don't think you've got anything to feel sorry about, Byron. You did a lot of good work, you know? Maybe… maybe it was just time for things to end. It's nothing you could do."

Byron looked at him with that stern, all-too-knowing gaze, "There had to at least have been something I could do to save Bill. To save my friend." He stared off into the distance, past Dan's shoulder, "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry for everyone."

***

Dan drove home in silence, feeling bone cold even though the rain and wind had stopped and even though it was still overcast, by the time he made it back to New York, it'd probably clear up. The sun peeking over the shadowy clouds felt like a betrayal and for some reason, Dan felt cheated.

When he got home, he dropped his overcoat on the floor of the foyer and walked straight down to the basement. He stepped down the stairs and stared at the shadows curving over and around the curves of Archie. Feeling cut adrift, he walked over to the little trophy case where he kept all his pictures and newspaper clippings. He pulled the little, yellowing newspaper clipping of Nite Owl and Rorschach after their successful apprehension of Big Figure. They're standing side by side, proud and strong and confident and whole. Partners.

He slipped the clipping in the breast pocket of his shirt and pressed the button on Archie's side. The doors creaked a little but slid open easily for him. He climbed into Archie's belly and stood in the middle of the hull, looking around. Trying to shake his feeling of indelible loss, he walked over to the console and sat down in the driver's chair, relishing the familiarity of the view and position. He pulled the picture out of his pocket and stared at it, running his fingers over the buttons of the console. And if Daniel was being observed quietly in the shadow, wreathed in darkness and bound by demons that he couldn't even begin to fathom, he didn't notice.

He sat there for a very long time.

-

-

-

A/N: I love you, Byron. And I hate how you have like, no lines so I have _no idea_ if I did him any justice. :/ But still. Poor Dan has to go and have an existential crisis and Bryon had to go and be a nutball who inconveniently says things that hit close to home and Hollis probably has pneumonia and we have our little stalker making a cameo… man, everyone is just sad face today.


	36. Chapter 36

Author's Notes: mwahahaha! Today I come with morbidity part 2. *evil grin. I pulled out all the stops with this, so I really hope it had some kind of effect.

Warnings: Scary imagery (as scary as I could muster, so we'll see how much of a wuss I am at the end of this) containing gore, nudity and child abuse. Rorschach's head is a barrel of laughs.

36. Filthy

-

They are waving at him through the mirror.

It is a huge mirror across from his bed and he wants to move it or _(even better)_ break it down, but if he does, mommy will come and chop him up and feed him to dogs and he wants to be a good boy but they're waving at him through the mirror and they won't _go away._

Their little pale faces are pressed up against the glass so tight their noses bunch up and they wave and tap the glass with their little starfish hands and he would like to be friends with them except that _they don't have any eyes._

They stare back at him and their smiles are cold as blood and maggots drip from their empty eye sockets onto their lips and he didn't realize eyes were so big because the dark gouges in their sea-bleached faces are so wide, he wonders how their heads don't fall in half. They lick the gore from their lips and beckon to him but he doesn't move, doesn't want to go, he just wants them to _go away _and leave him alone.

They begin to look angry and they begin to shriek, their mouths opening far too wide to be possible, showing far too many teeth to be possible. The mirror is falling. If it breaks, they'll get out and then—

The mirror falls, Walter closes his eyes.

His mother is dragging him by the hair across the hall. She is naked and it bothers him because she is bleeding everywhere. It's not even normal blood, but white and sticky and translucent and it's getting everywhere and it's on him and it's in his mouth and suddenly, it's not his mother staring down at him as he's choking on the bitter white fluid. Even if the eyes are cold and hateful and look exactly the same.

The mirror breaks and it makes a sound like the ringing of bells.

He doesn't pay attention to it though because he is running, running and his feet slap the pavement with each step as the streetways and alleys coil around him, unfolding for him even as they constrict, dipping and twisting and spiraling into the darkness and there are eyes pinned to the brick, stuck on like a butterfly to a mounting board, with little spikes of glass. And the air is full of screaming. There's always the screaming.

There are falcons perched on every rooftop and ledge and powerline, impossibly huge and watching his every move with the impassive judgment of the angels but Walter is not paying attention to them. He needs to get there in time. He needs to be there before—

He lurches into the doorway and through the room, knocking over dusty mannequins and old sewing machines and it can't be too late, it just _can't_ be because if he's too late and she's gone forever then… then

The flat becomes a stair which becomes a hallway. Little boy and girl neighbors peek through the door across from him, but the top half of the little boy's head has been torn away and the little girl is ripping apart his brain, shoving it into her mouth in greedy mouthfuls. He doesn't spare them a second glance.

He looks forward instead.

White dress.

Brown hair.

Blood everywhere.

She moves in stop-motion, and his eyes have trouble tracking her. There's blood on her dress in obscene places. It's all his fault. He can't move. He doesn't know where he is. He doesn't know who he is. He wants to get out of here. He doesn't want to move. She's so small. She's right in front of him. She's climbing on the wall, little feet straining at handholds as she peers down at him from the upper corner. Her neck shouldn't bend that way. Her eyes are dark. She's on the floor. She's standing in front of him. She smiles. There is blood in her mouth. His mother is standing behind her.

_His mother is standing behind her._

He wants to tell her to move, to run, to hide away and he wants to protect her. Instead he stands there as Blaire's smile turns into a leer and as her little mouth opens, a spider leaks out _(and you've always hated spiders, haven't you?)._

"_You want some of this?"_ She murmurs and as his mother looks on with a look of pride on her face, Blaire lifts up her dress—

Rorschach let out an awful scream and lurched out of bed, tumbling to the floor, entangled in his one ratty blanket. Sunlight streamed through the windows, but it was already low in the sky, almost sunset. The shadows stood out in sharp relief, making his hands shake. Allowing himself this one concession (_just this once, this one time, please)_, he wrapped his arms around himself and let his shoulders shake and hitch as he shrouded himself in the knowledge of just what kind of monster he was.

-

-

-

A/N: Jesus Christ, Rorschach. *shakes head. Well. There you go. Rorschach's psychological trauma at its finest. Some of the things I chose were because they mean something in canon, or in the psychiatry stuff I googled. And other stuff I put in because of movies, books, or shit I thought was really creepy. I may have overdid it, so if you think this needed more warning, just let me know and I'll put more of a note before. I'm going to go eat some chocolate or something.


	37. Chapter 37

Author's Notes: Hai. So this chapter is basically the _last_ _one_ before the graphic novel chapters! This means we are nearing the goddamned end of the goddamned fanfic. :O This is very odd to me, but I guess it's nothing to shriek about yet, seeing as we have 13 more chapters. Lol.

Warnings: This one's short (why is it all of the transistor chapters are short?) and Dan gets to angst some more. Kinda.

37. How the Ghost of You Clings

It was the clatter of what very well have been another little owl figurine that littered his kitchen (and well, let's face it, his whole _house_) that jerked him out of his sleep. Dan's eyes flew open and he shot up from his bed. Shifting nervously, he crouched in his darkened bedroom, his head tilted to the door. He waited for another sound, any sort of disturbance to signal that what he hadn't just dreamt the first time. A horrible, thrilling sense of déjà vu hit him and the breath caught in his throat. It couldn't—but it could—and why not—

The noises persisted and whoever was downstairs didn't think he was home (after all, his home doesn't exactly have that lived in feel). Or maybe… maybe they knew he was home and wanted to see him.

Feeling stupid and worn out over how excited he was, Dan leapt out of bed and crept down the stairs. He winced at how _unstealthy_ he felt, forgetting after so many years how to minimize his noise and footsteps, but it didn't really matter, did it? Because if it was who he thought it was, then the worst that could happen was a sharp rebuke and a kitchen smelling like garbage and dead things, but it had been ages since he'd seen the bastard and he worried about him despite all his better judgment. And he always, always forgot how tired and sick and angry their meetings made him, because he hadn't seen anything in the newspaper about him for weeks and it was driving him mad—

Wait.

The silhouette in the darkened kitchen was tall, almost his height and didn't have the trench coat and the fedora and smelled more like sweat and drugs than anything else. Just as Dan's brain began screaming _wrong_, the man whipped around, letting out a startled cry. He whipped up a gun and raised it at Daniel's face, trembling.

"Don't move!" His voice was rough and croaking and made Daniel feel more enraged than he had in years.

Muscle memory flooded back to him as he feinted, moving fluidly around the table with more speed than the robber probably expected from a middle-aged man. Dan's fist smashed into the man's face and his elbow caught the man in the gut. As the robber doubled over, Daniel smashed his elbow once into the back of his neck, and the man fell over, unconscious.

Fingers tingling with adrenaline, Daniel felt a flood of disappointment that the robber hadn't lasted longer than that, hadn't put up that good of a fight. After ensuring that he was indeed unconscious, Daniel pulled the man upright and dragged him out of the house. He knew he ought to call the police, but he was too angry and full of adrenaline and bitter to want to deal with that right now. Besides, he told himself as he dropped the man on the sidewalk opposite the house (like so much garbage), it'd be really awkward to have to explain how an overweight forty-year-old ornithologist got the better of a robber.

So Daniel went back to the house, put the coffee table against the door, walked up to bed, and eased himself into a restless sleep.

Out on the pavement, a part of the shadows detached itself to hover over the semi-conscious man. Radiating menace and a sudden rage, the shadow seized the man and dragged him back with it into the dark recesses of the night.

-

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-

A/N: Aaand we have Dan delivering a smack-down and Rorschach showing he cares by committing some gruesome murder in a back alley. Aw, true love. XP lol. Anyways… So these next chapters should actually go really fast because they are GN-verse and I will have the GN next to me, telling me what to do. So yeah! Thanks so much for your continuing support! 3


	38. Chapter 38

Author's Notes: Omg. We're totally in the graphic novel now. Ahhh, this is kinda weird. And I toyed with a couple ways to go about it because… well, it's GN. You could just go _read_ it. I wanted to give some kind of insight into the scene and I'm pretty excited with how I handled it personally (hurp a derp bragging. XP) But yeah, I hope you like it too! The only thing I'm not too pleased about is the lack of creative title. Oh well.

38. Reunions

The yellow pin sat heavy in his pocket, weighing it down more than a small piece of plastic and metal possibly could. When he put his hand in the pocket, the imprint of blood splashed against the veneer of paint felt warm and wet and condemning against his gloves, scalding in its implications. Blood was far more loquacious than any person he'd ever met. And far more truthful.

The events unfolding before him weighed down his mind as much as the pin weighed down his pocket. And his destination made him feel uncomfortable and queasy. He didn't really appreciate it. His avoidance of Daniel's home had been deliberate. He didn't like being there anymore. But the idea of not telling Daniel, not warning him of what could very well be the biggest threat to his existence was unacceptable. The worst kind of betrayal. And he didn't want _that_ voice to join his conscience. Didn't want _that_ blood staining his gloves.

His discomfiture increased as he made his way down the street, lampposts casting spotlights on the streets that were suddenly just a little cleaner. Rather, not covered with the obvious filth. The deception made him angry, made his fingers curl around the little pin, the edges biting into his gloves.

Dodging the corona of light from the nearer lamp, he walked up the steps of a tall brownstone. The lights were out and the house looked colder that way, more forbidding and unfamiliar. Rorschach preferred it that way. Felt less like he was seeing someone who—

With a growl, he braced himself against the doorframe and swung his leg up. The lock gave with infuriating ease but the shock of it sent dull little spikes of pain up his ankle. Would be easily ignored were it not for its frequency. Didn't Daniel sometimes express concern for his ankles back when—

Baring his teeth, he pushed his way through the door and found his way to the kitchen. He didn't turn on the hall lights. He didn't need them. And that disturbed him, against his will. Just because he hadn't been here in a while didn't mean that he wouldn't remember. He used to spend many nights here. Remembering where rooms were didn't have to mean anything.

He walked into the kitchen and flicked on the light and immediately wished he hadn't.

The fluorescent lights made the room feel fuzzy around the edges and edging in the realm of memory. The warm phantom-smells of coffee and maybe takeout edged around his senses, fogging them. Unbidden images of nights bent over paper and news clippings, brow furrowed, red pen cutting out a trail, the exultant grin when things clicked, moments when the life is worth it for what they will accomplish.

Rorschach broke through the fog of memory with a glare. He was never all that impressed with the past. He never had that much use for it.

Opening the cabinets, he pulls out three tins without looking at them. He sets them on the table and seats himself, noting in the back of his mind that he shouldn't angle away from the door so much. It wouldn't do to leave himself open to any kind of attack. He doesn't trust this space.

He didn't move.

***

He'd been through two and a half tins before he heard footfalls in the hallway. Cautious, slow and deliberate, but there was a familiar cant to them, a slight shuffling that he recognized, so he didn't move. Chewing through another spoonful of beans, he stared at the opposite wall and waited. The amount of food sat like a stone in his gut.

When the door creaked open and the silhouette became more pronounced, Rorschach inclined his head in greeting.

"Hello Daniel." The name came out heavy on his tongue and for a moment, he didn't want to turn around, struck with the absurd notion that perhaps if he didn't turn around, he wouldn't have to face what they'd become. "Got hungry waiting. Helped myself to some beans. Hope you don't mind."

"Rorschach..?" The uncertainty riding on Daniel's voice disgusted him. He turned to see that disgust mirrored in Daniel's eyes, no matter how softened around the edges it was. Daniel seemed to catch himself and stumbled around the words, "Uh… That is, no! No, of course I don't mind…" He trailed off, and the look of incredulous fascination reminded Rorschach that it'd been almost three years since he'd last seen Daniel. Reminded him of how he must look and smell and sound like. The realizations made him want to punch Daniel right in the face. Anything to wipe that disgusting expression from his eyes.

"You want me to heat those up for you?"

The words, so inoffensive and quietly awkward pulled up memories of words spoken in just that manner and Rorschach wanted to pull back his lips in a snarl. But he knew that would pull the cautious disgust behind Daniel's eyes to the forefront. And Rorschach didn't want that. For some reason.

"No need," He grunted instead, "Fine like this."

An almost-smile flickered across Daniel's features before he seemed to realize just who exactly was in his kitchen. And who wasn't. Rorschach watched as Daniel tried to recover some kind of familiarity. It was like watching a trapped bird try to fly.

"So, uh… long time no see!" The false brightness in his voice repulsed him and he wished distantly that he could leave, "How have you been keeping?"

He needed to get this over with. "Out of prison. So far. Take a look at this." He flung the leering yellow pin onto the table. The blood and death and damning implications painted across it looked out of place in the warm domesticity of Daniel's kitchen but Rorschach didn't do anything. He watched as Daniel shucked off his coat and picked it up, brow furrowed with a look that said he knew exactly what it was, but didn't want to face it. Didn't want to see it. Typical.

"Uhh… what is it? This little stain, is that bean juice or..?" And the statement was so asinine coming from a man who spent ten years of his life knee deep in the blood and depravity of others, who would know what blood looks like with almost as much intimacy as he did, that the question was almost funny.

"That's right. Human bean juice." Rorschach even allowed himself a laugh, in honor of the Comedian, who would undoubtedly found this conversation to be hilarious. As for himself, Rorschach hoped his laugh sounded as rough and horrible to Daniel as it did to his own ears. "Badge belonged to the Comedian. Blood too. He's dead."

Brown eyes widened in shock beneath those stupid glasses. "Dead? What, you're talking about _the_ Comedian?"

"Investigated a routine homicide. Victim named Edward Blake. Found the costume in Blake's wardrobe. Seems he was the Comedian." Rorschach was getting sick of the obvious questions, the smells, the phantom images. He wanted to leave. "Somebody threw him out of a window."

Somebody..?" Daniel's eyes were suddenly sharp, alert. "Listen, maybe we could talk about this down in my workshop. I feel kinda exposed up here." He glanced at the windows and the calculating, cautious expression mingled with memory that the lines were blurring between past and—

"Also, that way you can use the hidden rear exit. Uh, when you leave that is…" He trailed off awkwardly, suddenly aware of what he said and how it sounded. But Rorschach was grateful for it. It reminded him that he was here on business, unpleasant as it was, and needed to be gone as soon as possible.

"Right down this way," Daniel pushed open the door and walked down, "Uh, you haven't been down here in a while."

"Neither have you," Rorschach retorted, and it was supposed to be an observation and the bitterness lacing his tone disturbed him, so he added, "Lot of dust."

Daniel adjusted his tie, "Yeah, well, you know. Sometimes I come and sit down here for a while, but there doesn't seem much point since I retired." And there it was, a direct allusion for the distances, and the dust and a direct violation of the unspoken rule between them. The thing that compelled them to leave things unmentioned, hovering in the air between them. And the hull of the Owlship was covered and Rorschach wondered if Daniel had ever uncovered it since that day when Rorschach had disbelieved the truth and actively searched for a reason to disbelieve the reports—

"Listen, about the Comedian…" And once again, Rorschach was grateful for Daniel's barely-hidden desire to be rid of him. It pulled him away from things long buried, "Might it just have been an ordinary burglary or something? Maybe the killer didn't know who the Comedian was…"

A stupid question. And one Daniel knew the answer to as much as Rorschach did. He didn't really understand why the man was being so unthinking tonight. He didn't want to consider the possibility that maybe Daniel's intellect had eroded along with his physique. Daniel's mind was still a valuable commodity and one that, unfortunately, Rorschach may have need of in the future.

"An ordinary burglar? Kill the Comedian?" Rorschach allowed the distain for the suggestion creep into his voice, "Ridiculous."

He couldn't see Daniel blush, but he could hear it. "I guess it doesn't seem very likely." There was another considering pause, but this time Rorschach could sense that there was more interest now, a little more effort. "I heard he'd been working for the government since '77, knocking over Marxist republics in South America…" Daniel paused here, mulling over the evidence, "Maybe this was a political killing?"

"Maybe," The concession was grudging but it was there. It was a good theory. "Or maybe someone's picking off costumed heroes."

"Um. Don't you think that's maybe a little paranoid?"

And if Rorschach had been thinking rationally, he would have heard the slight grin in Daniel's voice, detected the teasing lilt that he'd grown accustomed to before. As it was, the words, taken at face value and mulled over in the harsh light of past whispers from others whose opinions didn't mean _nearly_ as much to him, cut him across his skin. "That's what they're saying about me now? That I'm paranoid?" There was an awkward pause and the anger simmered away, just bubbling at the edge of his consciousness. "The Comedian was active for forty years. Men make a lot of enemies in that time." And then, because he wanted Daniel to get as angry as he was, just so he would feel less ridiculous, "How's your friend Hollis Mason these days?"

"Hollis?" Daniel's voice was surprised, taken aback. Suspicious. "What does he..?"

"They were both Minutemen, when Blake was sixteen and Mason was the first Nite Owl." Rorschach paused for effect, "That book Mason wrote. He said some bad things about the Comedian in it."

"Rorschach, I don't like what you're implying," Daniel's voice was sharp, dangerous and he almost sounded like the Nite Owl again. Rorschach hadn't forgotten how best to upset Daniel. Just go after the people he cared about. Person. Mason was the closest friend he had. "Hollis is an old man. If you're thinking about going over there and scaring him…"

"Implying nothing," Rorschach hoped his dismissive attitude was frustrating, "Just an observation." There was another pause, but it was more hurt and awkward and pained than he wanted it to be. Daniel seemed on the verge of saying something and the last thing Rorschach wanted at that moment was an apology he didn't deserve, "Anyway, thought I'd let you know. In case somebody's gunning for masks. Better go now. Things to do." He turned and walked towards the exit, needing to leave as soon as possible before he suffocated.

"Yeah, well, the tunnel brings you out in a warehouse two blocks north…"

"Yes. I remember." Rorschach hadn't meant for the words to come out as sharp as they had, but there was a tightness in his head that he couldn't place, "Used to come here often. Back when we were partners." The words, having pulled themselves out of the darkness on their own, chipped pieces of his mouth on the way out. And it hurt, oddly enough.

"Oh. Uh, yeah…" There was something in Daniel's voice that sounded like longing, but Rorschach already knew that was impossible, "Yeah, those were great times, Rorschach. Great times. Whatever happened to them?"

Rorschach wanted to scream. Wanted to turn around and punch Daniel in the face over and over and over until it didn't look like a face anymore because there was always so much betrayal and loyalty and hope and despair and disappointment crushing crushing crushing and there wasn't really any answer that was simple enough for the infinite chasm stretched out before them, for the space that separated them and warped their vision with disgust except…

"You quit."

-

-

-

A/N: YAY. Rorschach is bitter! Dan is awkward and therefore asks stupid questions! Seriously though? "Is this bean juice" ? Yes, Dan. Yes it is bean juice. Because you've never seen blood before. And bean juice is totally red. :/


	39. Chapter 39

Author's Note: WOW I'M BACK. WITH A SHITTY CHAPTER. Okay, so this chapter both did not want to be written AND sucked coming out. Ugh. I'm not satisfied with this chapter at all, but I felt it was a good transition chapter between Stuff that Was and Stuff that is to come. But that's really no excuse. So, sorry for this. XP I'll get my bext chapter up too because I feel so badly about making you all wait SO LONG and all you get is this. :/ Thanks for your patience!

Warnings: Ugh. Also, a really stupid title, don't even know. lol

39. Black Parade

Dan considered not going. He never really liked The Comedian and quite frankly wasn't all that broken up about his death. But seeing Rorschach after about five years of no contact must have messed him up somehow because before he really had time to convince himself otherwise, Dan had his coat on and walking out the door. He squinted up at the sky and heaved a sigh as raindrops pattered on his glasses. He would be seeing the other members of the Crimebusters (such as it was) for the first time in about ten years. He rubbed his eyes and smoothed the wet tendrils of hair out of his face; this wasn't exactly how he thought a reunion would be like. But then, he hadn't thought about having a reunion in at least five years. It was almost funny how he still thought of the good old days, but didn't want to see any of the good old people.

It was probably because none of them were really good old people.

He rounded the corner to see a procession of people waiting outside a black hearse, waiting for the casket. He struggled to squelch the feeling of not belonging; like he was the kid who came in late to a new class, who knew he was supposed to be here, but didn't have any time to acclimate to the surroundings. Adrian caught sight of him first, and Daniel noted that he'd aged well. Just enough lines on his face to look wise, but enough youth in his face to look powerful. And of course, Daniel noted with some childish bitterness, he was in perfect physical condition. Adrian smiled, solemn and respectful, and shook Daniel's hand.

"It's been a while Daniel, how have you been?" He still sounded the same: centered, calm and knowing. It was simultaneously comforting and irritating.

"I'm all right. You look good." Daniel still felt awkward around the man, even though he spent a better part of his life in the same line of work. Hell, he'd seen the man run around in gold lame` tights and he _still _felt inferior. Which was stupid.

Fortunately, there wasn't a whole lot of time to carry on some kind of conversation, as Jon arrived and diverted Adrian's attention. Dan sighed and allowed his eyes to wander through the crowd. There were a lot of official looking men and past them was a crowd of wet, disgruntled looking people with the same thought on all their faces: couldn't have happened to a nicer person.

Frankly, Dan was thinking the same thing. And he didn't even feel that bad about it.

He scanned the crowd, his eyes falling on a dripping, stern faced red-haired man in the foreground. He wondered what this guy thought of the Comedian, of masks, how he felt about the Keene Act, if he felt they'd ever done any good at all. Did they ever save him, before out on the streets? Dan let his mind wander. Maybe he was one of the few that appreciated them, even when everything went to hell. Or maybe, and this was more likely, they never met him at all, and even though he probably (definitely) had his share of misfortunes, there were no superheroes to come in from the night to help. New York was a big city, and people slip through the cracks. Even in Dan's head that sounded like a cop-out

Dan bent his head against the wind and rain and left the funeral without shaking any hands. He felt eyes on his back, but he chalked it up to tiredness and the worst kind of nostalgia and walked home.

A/N: YEAH. Okay, so that's done. Sorry about that. XP But the next chapter was really fun to write so hopefully it's a lot better than this one! Haha


	40. Chapter 40

Author's Notes: So we're gonna travel _waaay_ forward in time in the GN to Rorschach's arrest scene. Mostly because that's what my Big Damn List says. And I will obey The List. So… I always at least _try_ to tell things in an interesting manner and that's getting harder with the GN chapters because those are the chapters that you could just as easily read for yourself. So this chapter was an attempt to make a very, very well-known and favored scene in a different light. So yeah, do lemme know what you thought of this one as it was a little experimental. Whoooo~. Haha.

Warnings: OC POV. AHH. Oh yeah, also swear words. Lots of them, actually.

40. Arrest

He tried not to show his nervousness as they drove in the van toward the target location. He'd only been in the unit for two and a half years and they still called him "Rookie". The nice ones, anyways. And he knew that if he didn't fuck this up, that he'd finally get some respect. Fortunately, he was doing better than some. Garrison, who'd been on the team for about a year longer than he, was sweating bullets and Doyle was twitching like a dope fiend. At least, he _hoped_ he was doing better than them.

Charlie, who was one of the senior members and the only senior member who wasn't a hardass or a complete dick, leaned over and patted him on the knee. "Don't look so nervous, son. Just keep your head and you'll do fine."

Damn. He smiled ruefully. "I look nervous?"

"Like you're gonna piss yourself."

_Damn._ He shrugged, aiming for nonchalant, "I'll be okay."

"You better." The rasping grunt of Gibson, the stick-up-the-ass, don't-give-me-that-shit-I-fought-in-'Nam senior officer rang in the van. He scowled at him, "You fuck this up, people die. Plain and simple. You got that?"

"Yes sir," he muttered through gritted teeth. Charlie shot him a sympathetic look, but remained silent.

"Good," Gibson snapped and glared around at the company as a whole, "Same goes for all of you assholes. This crazy bastard has been pissing on the law for ten fuckin' years and now we've got him right in our hands. He escapes again, and everything's shot to hell. You got that?"

There was a general murmur of assent and a shifting of the company. They were warriors now, off to fight against some great, deadly foe. Frankly, he was thrilled to be a part of it.

When the van pulled up, there were already four or five cop cars around this old, beat-up tenement. The officer at the scene, some excited, skinny dude in a brown trench coat briefed Charlie and Gibson, but he wasn't paying much attention. Heart pounding, he shuffled his way to stand next to his best friend. He elbowed him in the shoulder.

"So whaddya think Mikey?" He grinned, letting adrenaline and excitement leech onto his face, "Ya ready for this?"

"Hell yeah," Mike's face lit up with similar excitement, a blonde lock of hair falling in his face. "This is it, Teddy." He flashed his shining smile at him, "We're finally gonna get this fucker."

"Not you two, you're not." Gibson barked, looming over them. And Ted always wondered how Gibson (a modest six foot) managed to loom over _Michael_, who was easily six-five. But he managed. "You screw ups aren't going up there with a deranged killer. You'd freeze up like a coupla morons and then we'd be fucked. Wait out here."

"Wha- b- you…" Mike spluttered, outraged, "That's bullshit! You can't--"

"You really wanna do this now, funny man?" Gibson challenged, scowling in that triumphant way when he knew he was gonna get away with being a dick. Michael opened his mouth to retort, but Ted interrupted.

"No, we don't." He shot Michael a look, "We'll stay here as backup." _Even though that's fucking bullshit and you need every guy you've got. But sure, we'll stay. 'Cause that's smart._ Ted pressed his lips together to prevent any words from coming out.

"Yeah, you will." Gibson retorted, always having to have the last word. Like a dick. He turned on his heel and strode away. Charlie watched from a distance and gave the pair a look that read _that's the way it goes guys, sorry._ Ted managed a grin and a thumbs-up before Charlie turned away. Ted and Michael watched the rest of the team push their way into the house and tried not to worry too much.

They didn't have to wait that long.

After what couldn't have been more than ten minutes, Michael grabbed Ted's sleeve. "Hey, is that _smoke_?"

Ted squinted up into the window and his eyes widened. "Shit, it is." They exchanged a look and pushed their way so that they were closer to the entrance of the house where smoke was indeed beginning to spill out.

"Do you think we should do something?" Michael asked, turning worried eyes to Ted.

"Like what?" Ted asked miserably, "If we go in there without knowing the situation, we could fuck everything up."

Michael sighed, "Yeah, but I don't like—_holy shit_!"

Ted heard screaming, shouting enraged and muffled through brick and cement and the knife-blade crash of splintering glass. He looked up to see a dark shape barrel out of the house, birthed by glinting shards and billowing smoke and nightmares, bellowing all the way.

Holy shit, it was _him_.

The man (was it really though? Ted was pretty sure no man could roar like that) hit the ground hard and he could hear the bone strain and pop, the pained grunt from the wild thing and the sheer _mortality_ of the action snapped Ted out of his stupor. Rorschach, _the_ Rorschach was at their mercy, taken down by a bad fall from a two story window and wait'll the others come out and they can celebrate their—

Wait.

The implications of the team's absence, the shouting, the fire. They all rushed into his mind at the same time they met Michael's because they both exchanged horrified glances and weren't they _told_ that Rorschach was a homicidal maniac? Didn't they know that he'd use any means necessary to escape? That he'd probably rather die than go to jail and take out anyone who

And they weren't coming out

The building was still on fire

And this _bastard_

Rage filled Ted's gut and he lunged at the prone form muttering to himself near the dumpsters. With Michael at his back, and a few other unknown cops, he tore into the bastard who hurt his friends. The other cops yelled dirty, ignorant, stupid things as they kicked him and ridiculed him. Ted and Michael were silent as Rorschach was hauled up, thrashing and howling like a wounded animal (and that's all he was in Ted's mind, a crazy fucking animal). With someone's garbled encouragement and someone else's muffled response, the black and white mask was torn off Rorschach's face and Ted blinked in surprise. His face was worn and beaten and freckled and edged with matted red curls. He'd lost a shoe, Ted noted dimly, and another cop was crowing about the great and powerful Rorschach wearing elevator shoes. Rorschach screamed and howled and thrashed and _give me back my face_ and Ted wasn't sure he'd ever heard anyone sound so goddamned terrified in all his life. Like a dog cornered, this little, ugly man lashed out with all his strength and Ted watched in sick fascination. As they dragged him away, his cold blue eyes met Ted's and he forced himself to hold his gaze.

Rorschach stared at him until they got him into one of the cars. He felt Michael put a hand on his shoulder.

The bastard had hit Charlie in the sternum with a goddamned grappling hook gun, they'd learned when the team finally did stumble out of the burning house. He was carted away in the ambulance and wouldn't come back to work for almost a year. Whenever Ted thought of it, a twisting and uncomfortable feeling of rage and unease coiled in his stomach. He and Michael never talked about it, but sometimes Ted had nightmares of cold blue eyes and fire and shards of glass.

A/N: YAY. So I've decided I like this chapter a lot. XD I hope you guys agree with me! Haha. The next chapter is actually kind of funny, so yeah, change of pace. Lol. XP


	41. Chapter 41

Author's Note: Omg, I'm alive. I am so, so sorry for the million year delay. I've found myself in the weird yet semi-fortunate position of having two jobs. And summer school. XP Anyways, so this chapter's really different because it focuses on Laurie. :O And really, this chapter should be titled "LOL, Sepulchre has a secret fiction crush on Dan." Because (1) I do, and (2) so does Laurie. XD Man, I remember a time when I didn't like Laurie. Now, she's a helluva lot of fun to write. Haha. So anyways, enjoy.

41. Big Damn Button

Laurie had to smile when she found the door to Dan's old Owl Room. Or whatever it was he called it. It wasn't as though she'd never been down there before, it'd just been… god, it'd been a while. Everything was under tarp and coated with a thick layer of dust. The few times she'd been down there, before, she remembered feeling like she was in an alchemist's lab or something equally stupid and childish. Laurie let her eyes sweep over the dusty surfaces, over the gleaming costumes that always hung on just the right side of ridiculous. She grinned at it, thumbing over the dusty goggles affectionately. She remembered the first time she saw him in that costume. She thought she remembered laughing, partially impressed and mostly amused, wondering how the hell he'd managed to get ahold of a costume like _that_. She grinned wider at the memory, how she wasn't quite sure if it was dorky or sexy or both. Looking back, she decided it was probably a little bit of both.

She turned around and looked back over the basement. There was a lot of history here—personal, private history that meant a lot to Dan, she knew. A large, dark lump of tarp caught her eye, casting shadows with its bulk. Laurie stepped carefully over the half-finished blueprints and dusty relics. _There you are_. Laurie smiled and ran a hand over the dusty eye of the Owlship. She pulled the tarp off with a flourish, baring it to the light. Ohh _yeah_. This was what she remembered from the Old Days. That big damn ship. Not even Ozy had had a ship like Dan's. The goddamn Nite Owl with his goddamn ship. She grinned harder, remembering how proud Dan was of the damn thing. And how he'd always offer to give her a ride on the rare nights she patrolled on her own. But she could only remember accepting once, and she couldn't remember why she turned him down those other times. The Owlship was a pretty sweet ride, back in the day.

She climbed into the ship, inhaling the dust and the ghost scents of sweat and coffee and adrenaline. She stood up and stared around the ship, dark and sleepy, allowing the memories to flood back. _Now_ she remembered why she never took up his offer again. As she stared at the empty seats, phantom images floated behind her eyes: Dan's smile behind that ludicrous cowl, trying to split his attention and affection between herself and

Oh yeah. That was why.

Still stinging with residual irritation and hurt that always surged forward when she thought of Rorschach (that asshole), she strode across the cockpit to stand right behind the driver's seat and put her hands on the headrest. She entertained herself for a moment by pretending that it was Dan's shoulders she was resting her hands on and that Rorschach was sitting in the seat next to him, glaring and possessive and insinuating a thousand irritating things with only a word and a gesture, making her feel like she was just some stupid kid and just who the hell did he think he was anyways, talking to her like that and he better watch it before she punched him right in the

Well then. Laurie blinked and pulled her hands back from the seat. No wonder Dan rarely came down here. Here, memories were far too loud and never stayed where they belong.

Setting her jaw stubbornly (and really, this was kind of ridiculous, Rorschach wasn't even _here_), she walked over and plopped herself into the driver's seat with a rebellious sort of nonchalance. She sat very still for a moment, like she was a kid again, doing something she shouldn't be. But when nothing jumped out at her, and no alarms went off, Laurie smiled, leaning back in the seat. Then, with a little flourish and not a whole lot of thought, she pressed down a button on the console. With a quiet _whrrr_, the Owlship turned off. _Whoa shit_. Laurie's eyes widened as she started a little in surprise. Fumbling a little, she pressed the same button again, praying that she didn't just break Dan's Owlship. To her immense relief, the Owlship powered up again, humming quietly. Once she was sure the ship wasn't going to blow up or something, she grinned again, staring down at the glittering console. _Wow. This is really fucking fighter pilot here, Dan_, she thought affectionately, running a hand gently over the buttons. Finally, her eyes fell on the one button in the center of the console.

With a picture of fire on it.

Her fingers itched. She fingered her pipe, putting it to her mouth, nervously. "Okaaay…" She mumbled, "Now where's the dash lighter?" (and, wow, she must be really fucking stupid today because she _knew _that wasn't the dash lighter. In fact, she can't remember ever seeing Dan smoke). Her grin probably looked a little manic as she reached for the button. "Ahh."

_ FOOSH!_

Of _course_ shit would catch on fire. Secretly, she hadn't honestly expected anything else.

She shrieked in surprise, swore, and clambered out of the ship to try to put it out. Oh shit, she was _such_ an asshole. She set Dan's basement on fire, probably fucked up his ship, might have damaged all his old crimefighting stuff and what was she _thinking_, she could bet _Rorschach_ never pulled a stunt like this; asshat though he was, he probably never ruined Dan's stuff—

"Laurie?" Dan's voice, loud and tinged with panic, echoed over the flames.

"Fire extinguishers! Where the hell are the fire extinguishers?" And oh god, she was so embarrassed, she was snapping at _Dan_. As if this was _his _fault.

Thankfully, he didn't notice, or didn't care, because he just ran to the wall and grabbed one. "Over here. Laurie, what happened? I thought…"

And the concern in his voice was really too freaking much to take. Laurie interrupted him, "Look, I'm really sorry. I was just snooping around down here. I saw the lights on in the ship. See," and the lie was already riding on her tongue. Because how could she explain that a small, treacherous (and admittedly bitchy) part of her _wanted_ to set the place on fire, just a little bit. Just so she could clear away all the dust and nostalgia and shapes in the shadows that didn't seem to want her there. How could she explain to this sweet, kind of ridiculous man that she was pretty sure his past was trying to consume them both. "I was looking for the dash lighter."

Dan didn't call her out on it. "I don't smoke. That was the flame thrower."

_Well, no shit._ She resisted the urge to snap, to get defensive. Because it wasn't _Dan's_ fault Laurie was an idiot sometimes. "Yeah, well, I know that now." She tried for humor, but it didn't feel right to her. She sighed, "Look, Dan. I'm really sorry."

"Hey, it's okay. My fault, I was down here checking out the systems earlier. I left everything on when I went out to the store." Dan looked her over, eyes intense and worried beneath those dumb (adorable) glasses. "You're not hurt?"

And suddenly, Laurie could see why Rorschach liked Dan so much. Even now, she was pretty sure Dan was the only person Rorschach would do anything for. She was beginning to understand the feeling.

She wasn't sure how she felt about that.

A/N: So yeah. Laurie. She was really fun to write, mostly because she agrees with me that Dan is ridiculous, yet adorable (mostly because I say so. Lol). Also, I really wanted to explore how she and Rorschach feel about each other. Because, I love Rorschach. I really do. I think he's a damaged, compelling character who is intriguingly tragic and interesting. But I think in real life, I would want to punch him in the face. All the time. Because I think he would make you feel like an idiot and incompetent. All the time. So I think that's why Laurie's extra bitchy to him. Because a strong woman like that, she wouldn't want to feel like that. Buut, I didn't have enough time to explore that. Maybe next time! Haha.


	42. Chapter 42

Author's Note: Oh hai. Remember me? D: D: Ugh, real life is dumb. Anyways, this chapter is one I've kinda been looking forward to, since I think Dan says a lot of really, really interesting things about Rorschach in this part of the GN that I'd totally forgotten about. So enjoy!

Warnings: Rorschach being douchy and Dan being existential and Laurie being cranky. And possibly the only sane person in the group. Lol

42. Jailbreak

He hadn't _meant_ to bring up Rorschach so soon after having the most mind-blowing sex he'd had in years. He really hadn't. It was just the deadly combination of adrenaline and endorphins and exhilaration that made him feel invincible. That made him feel like he could do anything. And god, it had been years since he'd felt this way. To take action felt only natural.

Laurie took it with fairly good humor after her initial shock. Dan was grateful for that, since he was pretty sure he'd committed a rather grievous faux pas—mentioning _Rorschach_ of all people right after they'd had sex. It definitely wasn't as awkward as it could have been, but her raised eyebrows and bemused half-smirk made him flush anyways. He shrugged at her with what he hoped was an appropriately apologetic grin as he steered the ship in the direction of Sing Sing prison.

Sing Sing. To break out his dangerous, mostly insane ex-partner who probably won't even appreciate the gesture.

Christ, what was he _thinking_?

But as he flew over the prison, and caught the first signs of what looked to be some kind of riot, he didn't feel any regret, or panic. Just an exhilarating sense of _purpose_, and the absence of fear that made him feel like he could fly again.

Steeling himself, he glanced over at Laurie, who had steel in her eyes and in the line of her jaw. She hovered over his chair; hand on the shoulders, her eyes darting over the scene. The air was tense and focused. The sound of the officer's bullets _ping_!ed against the hull of the ship and the spotlights flashed against the windows. Adrenaline coursed through Dan's veins.

"Look," Laurie's voice was tight and worried, "Convicts. We're in the occupied section. How did you talk me into this?" She was murmuring, low and affectionately exasperated, "This is getting scary…"

Dan grinned, "Don't worry. Put in your earplugs so we can hit the ground running. I'm turning on the screechers now…" He hit the button and Archie roared, keening his song against the windows and the ears of the men. As they fell, Daniel dropped to the ground and pulled himself into a run.

Nite Owl had missed this.

The lights had just run out. Laurie had started in surprise, her shoulders tensing and her knees bending defensively. Dan looked up, eyes narrowing at the ceiling. Sing Sing's wiring couldn't be that old, but the electrical system may have taken some kind of a beating during the riot. Anyway, it wasn't like it mattered too much; Nite Owl was used to working in the dark—Daniel had had a lot of practice.

Laurie was talking. "…Extinguished! All the lights, they just went out…"

Dan flicked on a flashlight. "Speak up, I can barely hear you. It's some sort of power failure, obviously. Emergency lights should kick on soon, providing nobody's been too rough with the electricals."

They walked through the dark halls, alive and twisting with anger and blood and the air stunk like sweat and filth and a whole lot of other things that reminded Dan of why he quit. There were bodies on the floor and the air smelled like old smoke and wet dog, but some of that had to be in Dan's head.

"Dan, this is horrible. When we heard about the riot, I thought it would just provide cover for the escape. I hadn't imagined this…" Laurie gestured at the scene before her, eyes tense and worried.

"Old grudges get worked out in these things," Dan replied, his voice sounding distant to his own ears, "Old grudges and bad blood."

And how many people are in here because of him and Rorschach? How many people should have been in here but weren't because of Rorschach? How much bad blood was there, seeping through the armor of Nite Owl and Rorschach both, drowning them as they tried to survive. It made Dan a little sick to think about, but there was some kind of clarity, here in this dank and shadowy place.

"But this is pandemonium!" Laurie was overwhelmed, he could tell in the way she tried to keep her voice steady. She thought this was a stupid idea. She was probably right. "Even assuming that nobody killed him already, that he's still alive; how are we supposed to find him?"

"He's supposedly in the solitary section. He shouldn't be too difficult to track down." The image of his unmasked partner pushed its way to the forefront of Dan's mind. Yes, Dan would recognize his partner if he saw him; the way he _should_ have before.

They wouldn't stay unnoticed for long. They'd both known that. A woman in yellow lingerie and a man dressed like a giant owl wouldn't go unnoticed in any situation. As they fought, with fists and adrenaline, Laurie watched him, confused and irritated.

"I still don't see you need him." She pointed out, punching a convict in the ribs and sending him flying into the wall, "What did he do for _you_ lately?"

She was being defensive, and annoyed, but Dan could sense in the way she looked at him that this wasn't really about Rorschach. She wanted to understand _Dan_. Wanted to understand what it was about Rorschach that made Dan do stupid things like breaking into prisons and blowing his secret identity out of the water. Dan wished he could figure that out for himself.

"Nothing." He said finally, punching a man in the face. Blood and spit trailed from his mouth as he fell. "But meeting him recently, it's like he _wants_ to make friends without knowing how…"

"_Used to come here often. Back when we were partners"_

"…As if the gap between us were narrowing…"

"_Don't need to expect me anymore. Justice can be dispensed separately as well."_

"…It's just so hard, reaching him. I mean, all this stuff, this horror and madness, he attracts it…"

_He'd shown up in his basement that night, smelling like blood and wet dog and fire and had snarled at Daniel's touch, face under the mask contorted with despair and fear._

"…It's his world. This is where he lives…"

_Rorschach looked up from the beaten Knot Top at Dan's voice, blood dripping from his gloves and his mask leering._

"…In this sordid, violent Twilight Zone…"

"_What the hell happened to you, Rorschach?"_

"…under this shadow."

"_You quit."_

There was a lot of blood. And it was sort of sad how unsurprised Dan was at the revelation. The smell of burnt hair and skin hung in the air and a fat man hung grotesquely from the cell door, his throat slit.

"Well? Did we find the right cell? Is he there?" Laurie caught up with him and he heard the breath catch in her throat. Silence. Then, "From the smell, this whole place has his stamp on it." A cheap, weak shot, and they both knew it. This was still a bad plan.

"No. No, he isn't here," Dan turned, purpose in his stride, as he followed bloody footprints, "But I think he's been there. Come on. If we don't find him soon, our whole plan is in the toilet."

"Along here, maybe?" Laurie pointed, still tripwire tense and wary.

Dan huffed a frustrated sigh. Figures Rorschach would escape the same time they were trying to break him out. "I don't know. If only there was some sign…"

"Hey!" Laurie pointed at a figure walking a ways ahead, "Is that him along there? There was that picture in the papers, him without his mask…"

Dan's stomach flopped. The figure was ramrod straight, hands in his pocket, his stride purposeful. Maybe… "I-I'm not sure. It looks like his posture…" Dan willed his voice to steady, "Hey, Rorschach?" The man didn't look around, but Dan ran to catch up with him anyways. "Rorschach? Is that.. yes. Yes, it's you!" Blue eyes flicked in his direction, flat and distant underneath a bruised face. Dan grinned, "Come on man. We came to bust you out and we better hurry before, uh…" There was something else in his posture. Something Dan recognized from years of partnership, "Uh, we're not interrupting anything?"

"No." And yes, that was definitely Rorschach, because nobody else talked like that, all short sentences and rasping monotone, "Excuse me. Have to visit men's room." And without another word, he pushed through the door to the men's bathroom.

Yup. Definitely Rorschach.

Laurie huffed. "Oh for Christ's sake…"

"Uh, look, it's okay." Dan struggled for an excuse even as he was pushing down feelings of irritation himself, "I mean, it happens to everybody, right? I remember once I lost a big arrest like that…" He was babbling now, but he didn't really care; too tired and annoyed and frankly kind of embarrassed that he'd put himself and Laurie into so much trouble and Rorschach didn't even _care_. "I was closing down his dope dealer and I needed to take a leak. By the time I'd got in and out of the costume, he'd vanished." Dan grinned bleakly, trying for humor, "I redesigned the costume since then."

Laurie snorted, "Oh sure. Everybody's done that. What pisses me off, we came to rescue him, he doesn't even thank us! Doesn't even say hello!" She threw up her hands, "Hell, what's he doing in there? That bumping…"

Dan could take a few guesses, none of them very nice. "It's okay. I think I just heard him flush."

Laurie put her hands on her hips when he returned, face blank and stare distant. "At last!" She sighed, deliberately over-dramatic. Dan shushed her, not really in the mood to mediate a fight.

"There. Did what had to be done. Can leave now." Rorschach looked up at Daniel, eyes flicking up and down over his costume. Dan felt uncomfortable. Rorschach was several inches shorter than he'd remembered, and his face was gaunt and worn. He looked vulnerable, which was so far from the truth it wasn't even funny, but still. It made Dan feel like he had some unfair advantage, being in costume.

Laurie thankfully broke the tension. Or rather, redirected it to herself. "Really? I mean, are you sure? We don't want to get too reckless and go diving headfirst into things!" Her sarcasm was directed at both of them, exasperated and irritated and you-boys-are-in-so-much-trouble-with-me-when-we-get-back-to-Archie. Dan felt a grin spreading across his face.

"Hurm." There wasn't much inflection in Rorschach's voice. There hadn't been in years, but Dan was pretty sure he could hear vague and distant amusement. "Good advice," Rorschach intoned, meeting her sarcasm with his own peculiar brand, "Sure there are many who'd agree with you." Laurie just shook her head. "Incidentally," Rorschach continued, "Good seeing you in uniform, Daniel. Like old times." And there it was, the old feeling of camaraderie and excitement he'd felt all those years ago—

"And Miss Juspeczyk. Although never liked your uniform. Nothing personal."

And there it was, Rorschach's irritating disregard for everyone.

"Uh. Maybe I better kill the screechers so Archie doesn't deafen you when I bring him up."

"Hurrm. Owlship. Screechers. Belt console. All the old toys. I remember." Rorschach turned to Dan, his eyes bright and intense, finally looking at him instead of through him, "What brought you out of retirement? Taking mask killer seriously at last?"

Dan tried to think of a way to diplomatically respond, "Well…"

"No. Leastways, I'm not," Laurie stared up at him challengingly. He stared at her indifferently.

"No? But then, you haven't been attacked yet. Funny. Most everyone else has." It was amazing how casual Rorschach could sound when he had no inflections and was making unfounded accusations. Dan rolled his eyes.

"Rorschach, for god's sake, man, don't you ever let up? She just rescued you…" Dan felt disappointed. Which was silly, because he of all people should have known Rorschach would be like this; unmasking and imprisonment was violating enough, but to need rescuing by a woman he didn't like and a man who used to be his partner and now they're barely even acquaintances…

"What's he implying?" Laurie sounded angry, "I just don't buy this conspiracy is all! I mean, to me, this whole situation's grotesque. Dan thought springing you might help; I played along," Frustration seeped into her words, "Frankly, I wish I hadn't. I wish Jon was here to straighten everything and…" Her words screeched to a mortified halt as she realized what she'd said, "Oh, Dan. I'm sorry."

Dan told himself it didn't matter. "Forget it. Here's Archie…" He pretended not to notice Rorschach looking at him, his gaze piercing. "Hurry, without the screechers keeping folk away we'll soon start drawing fire. Also, I want to visit my place one last time before this caper brings the police down on it. There's equipment to collect." He sat in the driver's chair as Laurie clambered down the ladder.

"Y'know, this is getting heavy. As Dan Dreiberg, you'll be wanted." Her voice was subdued, worried and weary. It seemed that she was too tired to be irritated or angry.

Dan sighed, "The world should last so long. No, it's okay. I set up emergency identities years ago. They'll conceal us." He pressed a few buttons and pulled back on the steering column. "Hold tight. We're going home to roost."

Rorschach stayed perched half out of Archie, watching the ground shrink from view.

A/N: Wow, that was long. And a lot of fun for me to write. But damn…*rereads* Not a whole lot happened for you guys. Sorry! D: I just really liked this part because of what Dan says about Rorschach in the middle when they're looking for him and how irritated they must feel when they go all this way to find him and then when they do he's like "don't bother me, I'm killing bitches." I mean really. IRRITATING. I'm beginning to identify with Laurie a little bit. D: D:


	43. Chapter 43

Author's Notes: _Balls_, you guys. This was supposed to be done ages ago, I am so sorry. D: This is a part from the GN I'd always really liked because I like Rorschach's shitty apartment, and putting Dan _in_ Rorschach's shitty apartment. Also Rorschach's sad woobie face towards the end, which never fails to make me really sad. :(

Warnings: Me being a sentimental idiot. And by extension, Dan.

43. Layers upon Layers

Dan spared a moment to watch the dark, curved hull of Archie fall beneath the murky black of the Hudson. The prescription of his glasses had changed slightly since he'd had need to use them; nothing serious, but just enough to give him a slight pressure headache which threatened to explode into a full-blown migraine, the way this night was going. He turned to his… what? Ex-partner? Partner? Friend? None of those sounded quite right, and the uncertainty of _that_ along with everything else was really starting to stress him out. The last thing he could handle right now was silence, so he spoke up:

"So, assuming your spare outfit's where you left it, where do we start?" He tried to pull his brain back into the headspace he'd been able to access so easily when he was young. It'd seemed so easy, so important then. And it still was, but in a more wearying, overwhelming way. Dan couldn't shake the feeling of being swallowed whole.

Rorschach, however, seemed to have no such concerns. "Make inquiries amongst underworld. Whatever's behind elimination of masked heroes is something big. Makes ripples. Out there, somewhere…" Rorschach tilted his head upward, turning dead blue eyes staring sightlessly at the city, "Somebody knows."

Dan swallowed, his words to Laurie coming back to him: _all this stuff, this horror and madness, he attracts it. It's his world…_ Shaking off some unrecognizable feeling, he forced himself to take interest. "Yeah, I guess so. Also, with this mask killer thing, we should contact Adrian."

Rorschach paused for the barest of seconds, but in that tiny space, Dan sensed all the old distain that they both used to argue over. "Hurn. Yes, perhaps he'll be less dismissive of idea after attempt on own life…" Rorschach stopped abruptly, then turned sharply, "Down this way. Rear fire escape."

Dan had a sinking suspicion as to where Rorschach was going. There wasn't much here besides shitty tenement buildings. He thought there must have been a time, years ago, when the thought of seeing Rorschach's home, on _invitation_, would have thrilled him beyond belief. Now though, as the picture of Rorschach's life outside of the mask painted itself across the landscape of half-overturned dumpsters and filthy walls, Dan had the uncomfortable suspicion that nowhere Rorschach lived was actually _home_.

He didn't really want to think about the last place Rorschach could have conceivably called home.

He could have said something different, something a little significant, maybe even meaningful, but words had the treacherous way of twisting themselves around in his mouth until they turned into something more insulting. Instead, he talked about what Rorschach wanted to: "The thing is, we've got so little time to figure out who's doing this. I mean, neutralizing Jon, framing you, we're talking somebody major."

Rorschach nodded in agreement, clasping hold of a rusted, flaking fire escape. "Yes. All accomplished so easily. Lesson in vulnerability. Must be more careful in future."

Dan almost, _almost_, laughed then. A quick puff of air, released like a pressure valve.

"Future? What future?" He followed Rorschach up the fire escape and onto the roof. And there was a faint clinging of nostalgia up here, high among the city where they used to guard and protect. Dan had always thought it was a comforting feeling; now, it just made him nauseous, "That's my whole point: we're looking at World War Three within the _week_! I mean, what do we do? The stakes are so high and humanity is so close to the edge…"

Rorschach swung his legs over the ledge and lowered himself out of sight, so that only the tips of his pale fingertips could be seen, "Some of us have always lived on the edge, Daniel." His voice was quieter, almost softer, but if Dan was thinking realistically, it was probably because he was working on opening the window and not falling off the roof, "It is possible to survive there if you observe the rules: just hang on by fingernails and never look down."

Rorschach's fingers slipped from view.

Dan was standing next to Rorschach in the middle of his threadbare apartment, staring down a terrified landlady flanked by a bunch of wide-eyed and sobbing kids. This was just unreal.

"Mrs. Shairp." Rorschach's voice was quiet and _this _time it was dangerous. Predatory. "Long time no see." He took a step towards the quaking woman, looming despite his stature, "Told press I made sexual advances to you. Not true. Very bad."

Oh shit. Dan winced behind his goggles. He remembered the news report. He just figured it was shit-storming. He didn't think of how Rorschach would take it if he knew…

Mrs. Shairp's face was white, "No! I never said that! I got misquoted! Oh god, please don't…"

It was too much. Dan put a cautious hand on Rorschach's shoulder, despite every experience with his partner warning against it. "Rorschach? Come on man, leave it…"

Rorschach didn't even look at him. He shook off Dan's hand like it was barely worth his attention, "Can't. Serious business. Slur on reputation." He was talking shorter now, sentences even more truncated, "How much did they pay you to lie about me, whore?"

Dan swallowed hard, trying to think of some way to keep this from getting out of hand. He didn't think he could take Rorschach in a fight anymore, and really wasn't in the mood to try. But if he had to keep watching his ex-partner intimidate a pathetic woman with too many kids…

Shairp choked on a sob, hugging a child to her side, "Oh please, don't say that. Not in front of my kids…" Tears were starting to run down her face, mirroring the tears on her little tow-headed son, "Please, they… they don't know."

Rorschach turned to look at the child and the half-light of the door threw his expression in sharp relief. He stared down at the little boy, the little boy stared back at him, and Dan stared at them both. _There_, in that fragile moment, Dan thought he could see his old partner, his old friend, the man who he had fought with and laughed with, the man he hadn't seen in ten years.

The moment passed, and Rorschach turned away from the boy, his face hidden in shadow. He pushed past Dan, "Got what we came for. Finished here now. Let's go."

And here Dan really _should_ say something. Should do something. See if he couldn't reach the man who used to animate the mask, who maybe wasn't completely dead after all. But instead, he said nothing, like he always did, and followed Rorschach out the window.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed that, since we're coming down to the wire here! I'll make a greater effort to update sooner than once in a blue moon. D: Thanks to everyone still reading!


	44. Chapter 44

Author's Notes: WOW. I suck. There is really no excuse at this point, and I doubt that I even have any readers at this point, but I am very very sorry, since this has taken liiike two years. What is wrong with me. .;; at any rate. Here's a chapter, I hope it doesn't suck.

Warnings: None.

44. That I Might Reach You

Rorschach is angry, Dan can tell. He paces and growls and rages quietly behind Dan as he pokes listlessly at Archie's keyboard. He just can't find the energy to _care _right now. He is run down, not enough sleep, running on coffee and a pathetic sense of cosmic despair and Rorschach knows it. It enrages him, but he won't speak up, because that might imply that he's _worried_, and they never could have that.

Dan's sort of sick of all his bullshit.

So Rorschach grumbles and grizzles until he can finally think of something reprimanding enough to say. "Hate this. All day on river bed. Drowned corpses more useful." Dan reflects idly that Rorschach can be really rather dramatic when he wants to be. He stops behind Dan, and Dan can smell the musty scent of dirt and mildew and iron-and-rust. "You said we could proceed." He sounds accusing. He always sounds accusing.

"These computer searches I've been running _are_ procedure," Dan reminded him, trying to keep the bite of exasperation out of his voice; it never did him any good. The words _you should know this_ didn't come, nor did _don't you remember how we did this before_. Because that would be the very worst thing to remind Rorschach right now. So instead he settles on, "When it's dark again, we'll go up." And then, in a pique of childish petulance, "This is no picnic for me either."

Rorschach bristles and then, predictably, picks up on the wrong thing, "Implying something? About the coat perhaps?" And Dan furrows his brow at him, because yes, he really does _hate_ that coat. Because it's That Coat, and something terrible happened to Rorschach in it and Dan really hates that he still has it. But somehow, he doesn't think that that is what Rorschach is talking about. "Old. Slightly musty. Apologies." He doesn't sound apologetic at all, "Can't all be fastidious. Can't all keep hands clean."

And there it is, out of the haze of world-weariness and ambivalence, that spark of anger that Rorschach has always, _always_ been able to rise out of him. And goddammit, he is _not_ going to rise to this now. "I wasn't…" And even that came out too harsh, "Look, I just meant we took enough unnecessary risks retrieving your outfit this morning." He doesn't say costume, because it's not. The prison grays and the blank, freckled face is more the costume and Dan tries not to dwell on that because it might just manage to break his heart. And he's hoping that the reminder of that startlingly close moment where Rorschach let a bit of his costume break will send him back to quietly grumble in the corner.

It does the exact opposite. "Unnecessary?" Rorschach's voice is sharp, "Cowering down here in sludge and pollution, conjuring names on screens, learning nothing: that is unnecessary." And wow, he is on a roll, "Give me the smallest finder on man's hand. I'll produce information. Computer unnecessary." Dan is getting really, _really_ frustrated now, and grips the handle with a white-knuckle hold as Rorschach keeps talking, "This face all that's necessary." There's a pause, and the shuffling slide of fabric over skin, "all I need."

And, once upon a time, that would have actually been impressive. Now, however, it is just annoying. "That's bullshit," Dan replies flatly, Rorschach chuffs behind him, "You need darkness to work with, just like I do. And we both needed the sleep we grabbed." He stares at Rorschach in unimpressed challenge, "Right now, I need some pattern that makes sense of the data we have." And Rorschach knows this; this is how they worked in the past and dammit, it makes _sense_. Without data, hunches remain hunches and there's only so far finger breaking can take you. "The Comedian mentioned an island and some plot against Jon. My computers suggest Jon could have been set up, possibly by the company all his supposed 'victims' worked for…" Dan trails off then, because there's something there. There's _something_. There's something glaring that he's missing, and he simply can't put his finger on it—

"Possibly." Rorschach growls, training in on the one word that will give him weight in this argument, because this is _actually_ an argument right now, "We should ask questions of the underworld."

And Dan makes a show of looking out the window, at the dark, bubbling world they are hanging in some kind of slimy suspended animation. "Isn't that what I'm doing?"

"Don't play games with me," Rorschach snaps, and the anger he has managed to stir up in Dan's gut is starting to rise up in his throat, "You waste time looking for pattern when pattern is obvious. The mask killer—"

"If you'd _listen_, that's what I'm trying to say!" Dan's actually starting to shout now, because god_damn_ this is annoying, "What if there _is_ no mask killer?" And that seems to have stopped Rorschach enough to give Dan room to breathe, because he is far too old to say something that is shaping itself to be "get off my back, man", but if he doesn't say something else, it will work itself out to something he regrets, "Look, the comedian learned, _accidentally_, about some island, some scheme against Jon. The plot against Jon comes first. Blake's killed when he discovers it."

Rorschach actually seems to grudgingly consider it, but he's so stuck on his theory and he simply can't _stand_ the idea of admitting Dan may have a point right now, so he persists, "Who knew Blake suspected anything."

Dan hesitated for a moment, trying to keep a handle on the tangle of his thoughts, "This Dimensional Development company employed Moloch. Maybe his place was bugged when Blake visited?" He chewed on his lower lip in thought, "That'd also explain how they knew about your investigation and were able to frame you without requiring any mask killer."

Rorschach's challenging posture didn't change. "And Veidt?"

…Well damn. That is definitely the problem. "Adrian's a problem," He admits grudgingly, and since when did they both become so petty? "That was a clear-cut assassination attempt, using a hired killer…"

"Exactly." Rorschach sounds rather triumphant, the asshole, "So trace killer. Visit bars. Squeeze people." And then he turns to him, tucking his journal in his coat, "Been lazing around a long time. Maybe you've forgotten how we do things."

And yeah. That's basically the last goddamn straw. All the anger and guilt and misery and disappointment that Rorschach has reached down and stirred up in Dan's gut, gritty and dizzying, finally bubbling up to the surface and tumbling out of Dan's mouth before he can do anything about it. "Listen, I've had it!" He's standing up, although he can't remember when he got up, "Who the hell do you think you are? You live off people while insulting them and nobody complains because they think you're a goddamned _lunatic_." And here every frustration and irritation and pain comes pouring out, culminating in one plaintive thought, begging for clarification:

"Do you know how hard it is, being your friend?"

And yep. There it is. The invisible line has been crossed and that was really, _really_ unacceptable because Rorschach isn't supposed to _know_. He isn't supposed to be privy to all of Dan's worries and frustrations and how Dan still thinks of Rorschach as a friend when Rorschach _obviously_ doesn't care one way or another about Dan, and how he is sure that the bulk of the other man's feelings towards him are a sickening mixture of disappointment and embarrassment. And yes, that stings, but that's how it is, and he wasn't really too keen on the idea of revealing that much.

So it is time to save face. "I…look, Rorschach. I'm sorry." And of course _he's_ the one apologizing, "I shouldn't have said all that. Listen, you were right. We've been down here too long. It must be dark enough to surface by now. I'll take him up." Mostly because Dan's starting to feel claustrophobic under Rorschach's motionless gaze, so he turns, and fiddles with the controls, feeling like shit. As usual.

"Daniel…"

And he turns without meaning to, brow furrowing at the unusual hesitation in Rorschach's voice, the tone alien enough to override the pettiness Dan intended to cling to. Rorschach was standing behind him with an arm outstretched, hand reaching in his direction.

"You are…a good friend," Rorschach stammers, and there's really no other word for it, he really is _stammering_, clearly at a loss for how to communicate this, "I know that. I am sorry…that it is sometimes difficult."

Holy shit.

Rorschach is _apologizing_. Rorschach never apologizes, especially not now, not lately. And now not only is he apologizing, he's apologizing for being an asshole. This is unprecedented. And the sheer unprecedence of it makes Dan a little nervous. Rorschach is showing little bits of himself, making little concessions and it feels a little to Dan like preparation. And a little like a goodbye.

"Uh…hey…" And as usual, words pile up in the back of his throat, and articulation escapes him, "Hey, forget it. It's okay, man." He squeezes Rorschach's hand, "It's okay."

And of course he would only have a handshake to try and communicate his appreciation for having been his friend. To try and say how much this other person means to him, despite all the bullshit. And how it has been an honor, in a strange and fucked up way, to have worked with him (_it's been an honor working with you, gentlemen_). And only then does it occur to him that they've been holding this handshake for a really long time.

"Uhh…" Dan stares at their hands for a moment before resting his own hand on Rorschach's forearm gently. And suddenly, this is awkward, and Dan doesn't quite know why, but Rorschach feels it too, and he snatches his hand away. "Well anyway, there's…" Dan clears his throat, "There's no sense waiting down here any longer." He glances up at Rorschach and then back down at his control panels.

If this is going to be a goodbye, then Dan is going to be damned if he lets this be another wave of regret in his life. Not this time. "I mean, down here in this junk garden, is this any place to hold the reunion of the Nite Owl-Rorschach team?" Rorschach looks up at him, still rubbing his hand self-consciously, and something like understanding passes between them. Nite Owl grins, his smile cutting like cold steel.

"Y'know, some nice, straightforward brutality, after wading knee deep in this conspiracy weirdness for so long…" Nite Owl presses at the control and Archie hauls himself up out of suspension into flight.

"Hell, it'll be like coming home."


End file.
